


Allez Savoir Pourquoi

by Yilena



Series: Allez Savoir Pourquoi [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fantasy, Minor Character Death, Romance, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-15 06:13:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 30,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8045422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yilena/pseuds/Yilena
Summary: After seeing her soulmate for years without knowing his identity, Marinette bumps into him at a newly opened cat café. When he confesses that he needs help, she agrees to work for him on a whim. AU.





	1. 01

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a one-shot but it spiralled out of control, so there will be one more chapter (hopefully). Adrien's obsessed with cats and decides to make a living from it.
> 
> \- ̗̀art ̖́- [aoirin](http://aoirin.tumblr.com/post/174152044856), [ceejles](http://ceejles.tumblr.com/post/152831971798).

  _Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Chat Noir © Thomas Astruc_

There was a legend that was told to children often; a romantic tale where if one thought about their soulmate while looking in a full-length mirror, then their wish would be granted and they would see a glimpse of their other half for a few seconds. A young dark-haired girl had been told the story while her smiling parents had tucked her into bed for many years. Sometimes her father, a burly man with facial hair that tickled when they embraced, would embellish the story and say that he saw her mother's face when he was a young boy, and that was how he knew they were meant to be together.

Marinette grew up with the romantic story swirling within her head. There were many couples that publicly claimed that they'd seen each other in mirrors, and they were happy ever since, but they were proven wrong more often than not—it seemed that only the elderly couples that were happily together after the trials of life could have proudly said they'd glimpsed each other, but none ever did.

By the time she was in secondary school, Marinette believed that it really was a legend; she had gazed into the mirror and whispered to see her soulmate countless times to no avail. There was no age restriction to the tale, so either she was destined to be alone, or it was a story that had gotten out of control for people to claim it was real. Therefore, she preferred to think that there was someone waiting out there to meet her, rather than believing that she was a lonely soul.

She immersed herself in her studies, excelling at different subjects and impressing many professors with her sheer willpower—she scored in the top percentage for years on end, and by the time she entered college, Marinette was a slight girl with dark hair that fell to the middle of her back, intricately braided to keep it off of her face most of the time. Her chosen subject to study was fashion, which shocked many professors when she'd timidly announced her decision at the end of school.

It was just before she'd finished college when her life changed. Marinette had came home from an interview for a university, clad in a smart-looking dress that clung to her body and fell to mid-thigh (her mother had been very adamant on measuring the amount of skin she was showing). She'd kicked off her shoes at the entrance of the apartment after waving in greeting at her parents downstairs, and ventured up to her room to collapse in the chair by her desk.

She twirled upon the chair, gazing at the full-length mirror that had been placed upon her wall since she was young enough to walk.

She looked tired. Dark-coloured hair pulled back, showing her slight Asian features and bright cerulean eyes, yet there was a smile missing from her face.

“Soulmate,” she muttered, placing her chin upon her open palm, “as if.”

And then, it happened. Her exhausted reflection within the mirror rippled, distorting the image for a few moments before it completely changed. The person reflected within it was no longer herself; it was a male who's mirror was facing his bed, and she could clearly see he had soft-looking blond hair, but his face was obscured at that moment. And as her incredulous gaze trailed to take in the details, she realised one shocking detail—the flush upon his cheeks wasn't for no reason.

“ _Fuck_!” Marinette swore, hands slapping over her eyes to try and wipe away the image. “Stop!”

There was a peculiar detail, though. The only sound she could hear was her rapid heartbeat and slightly unsynchronised breathing, and there was absolutely nothing coming from the mirror just across the room—well, of course, right? Why had she even expected to _hear_ him—to hear him enjoy the intimate activity that really shouldn't have been shared with her?

And yet, it had.

Marinette peeked through her fingertips, face burning brightly as she could make out the curve of his lips and tried to will herself to focus on his appearance rather than the frantic movement of his hand. It was still too intimate, though; Marinette gulped and breathed in shakily, squeezing her eyes shut once again just so she wouldn't intrude on his personal moment.

She gnawed on her lower lip.

It was three minutes later that she opened her eyes hesitantly and almost fell off her chair in shock. Marinette scrambled from the chair, rocketing across the room to stand stiffly in front of the mirror—staring directly at the male fixing his appearance in the mirror.

His eyes were green, framed by lashes that were stained blond at the ends. His hair was a golden halo that was swept across his forehead neatly, some strands just below in earlobe in length yet all coiffed professionally. The male was dressed, thankfully, and as her gaze travelled further down his body seeing the tight clothing that fit his frame snugly and complimented his natural features, she realised something that made the heat within her cheeks to dissipate.

He couldn't see her.

The blond-haired was primping and making sure he looked okay, while her mirror was completely full of him and the view of the rest of his room (it was cream-coloured, with splashes of stained oak upon the furniture).

“Hello?” she murmured.

It was useless, though. Mirrors didn't have speakers or microphones—the legend didn't include some sort of telepathic connection, so he had no way of knowing what she'd just seen (thankfully).

She didn't know him. It wasn't a familiar face, and Marinette was very sure that she would have remembered him as he was clearly very attractive with his lean body, bright eyes and handsome appearance.

Although it took a while, the dark-haired female soon became used to the fact that her mirror was no longer functional. She'd work around the small problem, using the tiny mirror in the bathroom or within her make-up pouch if needed, and she became accustomed to the male that was constantly appearing within her mirror—the only problem they had was when she peeked at the mirror and noticed that he was participating in certain activities every now and then. But he... he was her soulmate, if the legends were to be true (and if they weren't, then why the fuck was he trapped in her mirror anyway?), so his most intimate moments were meant to be shared with her in due time. So whenever she peeked towards his direction and happened to see such things, she buried her head within a pillow or adamantly walked out of the room—just until he could see her, too. It wasn't fair if he didn't know she was peeking.

He had slight dimples upon his cheeks when he smiled sincerely.

He liked to ruffle his coiffed hair so it was tousled and free when he came home, and lazed around upon his bed until the late hours of the evening when he finally slept.

When he truly laughed, his eyes shined with happiness and he looked more handsome than usual.

And so, days of watching him turned into weeks upon weeks, months, and eventually years. She observed as a plethora of clothing appeared on him during the changing seasons, particularly the jackets or small accessories like a belt that continued to appear despite his constantly altering wardrobe. The brands and pieces that she saw in magazine were either immortalised upon his ever-improving body, or he sorted out the articles of clothing on his bed to select what to wear on special occasions.

He was particularly fond of watching cat videos.

By the time she was twenty-two, had graduated from university and moved out to her own apartment that was small, quaint, and had cracking walls that she simply covered up with fabrics so she wasn't depressed by looking at them, Marinette had managed to create a slightly successful boutique that she managed online. She created her own clothing and shipped them off when needed, and money was simply enough to go by for her to live adequately by herself. The mirror which the blond-haired male lived within in followed to her new home and sat snugly within her bedroom, and through the years she'd discovered quite a few things about the legend.

Not many actually believed in it. When Marinette had began to ask her class-mates and closest friends about their opinion on the matter, they had laughed fondly and said it was a good dream to have. When another gazed into her mirror, they saw their usual reflection instead of within her soulmate's bedroom. And knocking upon the mirror or attempting to contact him with any sort of technique simply didn't work—and so, it had been years, and she'd simply grew sad from waiting for him to wish for her.

He was cute, extraordinarily so.

Marinette pulled her hair up into a bun for the evening, already having clad herself in a t-shirt and shorts for the summer weather, running her fingers momentarily through the bangs that had appeared during her last hair cut. The dark hair had been cut off to sway by her collarbones and became manageable, and the cut had been the first stylish choice that she'd chosen for herself. Her clothes had evolved through the years, especially when she began to wear her own creations and slowly improved as time went on, so it seemed only fitting that the long tresses needed to change from practical to something pretty, finally.

He'd gotten a cat. A feline that had sleek black short fur with bright emerald eyes, and the two of them were impossibly sweet together. Marinette sometimes found herself snorting with laughter when she'd awake in the evening to gaze and see the feline curling up within the tufts of blond hair, making a nest of sorts while the male was blissfully unaware and asleep. The feline had grown before her eyes, and the first time the black-coloured cat had looked into the mirror and seen its own reflection, it had hissed with fur standing upon end and she'd cackled in amusement from the reaction.

It had been five years by that evening. Marinette perched herself upon the end of her bed, an ignored novel within her lap as she stared at the mirror, watching his usual routine.

When the blond moved to a new home, he'd taken the same mirror and placed it in front of his bed, allowing her a brief glance of the new room. It was considerably smaller with navy-coloured walls and a double bed with plush bedding that looked particularly comfortable, and a matching large scratching post with two levels and a hanging bed that the feline never touched just beside the mattress (with the obvious attempt of coaxing the cat away from the blond's hair during the night).

She'd grown fond of him over time, and those feelings had only increased with every passing day. Marinette sighed quietly, knowing that pining was doing her no good—it had been _five_ years and he'd glanced into his own mirror more than enough times and only seen his reflection; perhaps he wasn't searching for love or a girlfriend, and the distinct lack of females or even males that touched him intimately within his room made her think that that, indeed, was the case. The blond showed his love with affectionate touches to his pet cat which was particularly amiable most of the time.

So when her best friend invited her out for a double date, she didn't reject.

Marinette dressed herself in a pastel lime-coloured short-sleeved shirt, making sure not to show too much cleavage, tucked into dark shorts with a black blazer with a white trim, a sample of her new collection she was planning to add to her boutique in the coming weeks. She'd arranged to meet her friend—who'd been stuck to her like glue since before they'd hit puberty—at a new café that had opened, a ten minute walk from her apartment. Marinette gazed longingly at the empty room through the full-length mirror, admiring the black feline that was curled upon the blond's favourite pillow.

She couldn't pine after him forever. He shouldn't have been within her mirror in the first place, and that was exactly what she repeated under her breath the whole walk outside.

The weather had her cheeks flushed, she noticed while checking her appearances in a small mirror. After dabbing a smidgen of scarlet lipstick on, Marinette gazed at the clean and classy outside of the café, noticing the painted paw prints across the glass, and the board that was adorned with a carved cat head upon the top. It was quaint, lovely, and when she stepped through the door and heard the tinkling of bells above, she breathed a comforting sigh from the warmth within.

And then, she took in the décor and realised where exactly she was for a date—her first date at that. The café was an open space coloured a soft cream, with homely pictures in frames upon the walls, shelves with little trinkets and books on various subjects. There were a few bookcases stained beautifully, and a small counter to sit by the window with tall seats, while the rest were pillows upon pillows on the floor, surrounded by little coffee tables with animals beds placed sporadically around the room. Tiny boxes of toys were placed within every nook and cranny, and there were countless scratching posts with different assortments upon them for felines to enjoy. And as she felt her smile widen from realising what kind of café it really was, there was a brush of softness against her legs, curling around while vibrating in an endearing way.

“Well,” Marinette started softly, crouching down to offer her hand to the feline, “hello there.”

The cat was short-haired with burnt umber-coloured fur, decorated with spots of dark brown scattered everywhere and bright cerulean eyes. Marinette laughed softly as the feline sniffed her fingers, pausing briefly before rubbing its chin softly against the curve of her digits.

A voice announced itself along with a pair of nicely shined shoes appeared in front of her, right beside the feline that was happily purring away. “Welcome!” was said, “I see you've met Bridgette here. She's quite fond of greeting everyone that arrives—quite a good employee, I must say.”

“She's sweet,” Marinette replied softly, petting the feline's head one last time before standing up. As she stood up and brushed the creases of her clothing, Marinette took in the large white apron that the male wore, littered with paw prints much like the windows and quickly realised that he was most likely the owner.

“Are you here alone, or are you waiting for others?” he asked in a friendly tone.

Underneath the apron, it was clear that his clothing were made of high-quality material, especially with the long-sleeved shirt that he'd pushed the sleeves up to his elbows, the material crinkling wonderfully without looking too bulky. Her cheeks coloured as she realised she was too busy admiring his clothing, and as she looked up and promptly opened her mouth to profusely apologise for the distraction the words that were upon her tongue disintegrated.

He had coiffed blond hair, a dusting of gold upon the ends of his eyelashes, and there were soft dimples as he smiled with slightly furrowed eyebrows at the lack of response.

It was him.

“O-oh, I— _well_.”

His smile grew bemused. “I'm Adrien, by the way,” the blond introduced himself, hands retreating into the pockets of his absurd apron, “just call me over if you need anything, okay? I need to disappear into the kitchen briefly.”

And with a soft smile he turned around to leave, but not before reaching down to pet Bridgette's head quickly and she wasn't ashamed to say that she blatantly stared at his retreating buttocks that was framed wonderfully by his tight jeans—because, well, that was her soulmate's behind (he just didn't know).

“O-oh— _okay_!” she replied, but he'd already disappeared across the room to a small doorway that was framed by dangling beads in a plethora of colours.

Her face was flushed, and she stood ramrod straight awkwardly in the middle of the room as she processed the information.

The male she had been searching for every time she went outside had finally appeared, right when she'd finally decided to give up after almost five years of pining—when she'd agreed to go on a date within his very café (at least, she assumed it was as he was the only employee inside).

There weren't any seats left by the tall chairs by the windows, as customers had already ventured in and snagged those spots. Marinette heard the bell chime behind her, and chose to slip onto the comfiest looking cushions upon the floor, that were in the middle of the room, thankfully, giving a full view of the various cat toys and furniture along with the doorway that the blond had disappeared in.

She slapped her cheeks lightly in order to try and keep her nerves at bay.

Alya, her red-headed best friend who had voluminous bouncy curls and spectacles sauntered into the café five minutes later, clad in a tight deep violet-coloured dress that hugged her curves and fell to above her knees, smiled as soon as they caught sight of each other. Marinette waved her over with a grin, almost cackling in amusement as Bridgette shot across the room to sniff at her friend's feet as soon as she'd sat down.

“Oh, I should probably sit on the other side,” Alya mused, running a hand through her curls, “hang on.”

After she was seated across the coffee table, Marinette was fiddling with her fingers nervously, eyes darting towards the doorway to see whether the blond was emerging.

“The owner's... nice,” she choked out.

“I hope so.” Alya blinked. “He's my date's childhood friend—I think his name's Nino.”

She pursed her lips. “No, his name's Adrien.”

Alya cracked a smile and laughed, the noise ending in a small scream of surprise as Bridgette climbed abruptly onto her lap, head rubbing against the material of her dress. “I think I made a friend here. Also, I meant my date's name is Nino.”

“...You _think_?” Marinette repeated incredulously. “When you asked me on a double date, I assumed that you at least knew them.”

Her friend had the audacity to wink playfully. “It's the first date for me, too. I don't even remember your date's name, so good luck with that.”

She pursed her lips. “Thanks for that, Alya.”

“I'm the best matchmaker.”

“Where did you meet them?” Marinette asked, shrugging off her blazer and folding it beside her. Bridgette was still upon the red-head's lap, vibrating away happily and getting cat fur slowly over her clothes. “Please, tell me that you've at least spoken to them.”

Alya fiddled with her spectacles. “...Not really? I'm not sure what counts, if I'm honest. Nino—I swear that's his name, I'm sure now—went to the boy's primary school beside mine before I transferred. He recognised me online and just asked me out on a date.”

“...So how did I get roped into this?” she questioned.

“Well, if he turns out to be a murderer, then you're going to suffer with me.”

Marinette pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers, resisting the urge to sigh. Her red-headed friend was fond of going on dates, but not of pursuing relationships with the ones she met. There were countless messages of her phone from Alya, all documenting her dates and the odd shenanigans that occurred as she somehow managed to have weird situations happen to her. It was like she had a constant bad luck charm that didn't let her have two normal dates without something weird happening afterwards—therefore, the fact that Marinette had actually agreed to sit beside a stranger that her friend didn't even _know_ would've been good information to know beforehand.

“...You really don't know his friend's name, do you?” Marinette muttered.

Alya grinned widely, showing the contrast between her white teeth and tanned skin. “Nope.”

The feline upon the red-head's lap leapt up and shot across the room, and Marinette's head shot up and followed the cat that had began to curl around Adrien's legs, almost tripping the male over as he made his way around the café, handing out little plates filled with what she thought was a cake of sorts as he greeted and made small talk with customers. When her gaze trailed back to her best friend's face, who's eyebrows were raised and a smirk across her lips, she narrowed her eyes in a silent message to just be _quiet_.

“Is that the guy you were on about?” Alya questioned, eyebrows still arched.

She made a noise of disapproval. “Yes.”

“Cute,” the red-head murmured appreciatively, placing her elbow upon the table and leaning against her palm as she looked across the room, “at least there's more eye candy than just the cats here.”

If it was about anyone else, Marinette would have been fine, she was sure. But to hear someone whisper appreciative words to her about him specifically—her fucking soulmate—made her hands clench on instinct and lips to curl into a frown. It would be suspicious if she were to snap and defend him, a random male that she had met not even ten minutes earlier, but fucking hell, if Adrien hadn't waltzed towards them and stopped just behind Alya, then she would've uttered something that would've caused her best friend to squeeze her tightly until she confessed her sins and secrets.

“Welcome, you two,” Adrien greeted kindly, the tray placed upon his arm teetering dangerously, “this is on the house, as a thank you for coming!”

It was definitely a slice of cake, double layered and decorated roughly with some sort of cream between and on top. Marinette couldn't even open her mouth to thank him as he smiled sweetly at them, and fuck, she knew that it was polite and slightly confused because his dimples weren't showing, and the fact that she even knew that at all was baffling.

Alya thanked him, though.

“Can I get you two any drinks, or any other food? I'm afraid I'm still waiting for menus to be delivered, so I'll just have to tell you everything we have to offer,” the blond explained, a hand rubbing the nape of his neck self-consciously.

It was an endearing gesture.

“That's okay,” Alya said, making sure to place her bag underneath the table between the two of them, “we're waiting for our dates first. Could we have a few more minutes?”

He smiled. “I'll be back in a few, then.”

Her eyes were still glued to his retreating form, so when he was out of hearing distance, Marinette hissed, “Why did you say that?”

Alya audibly spluttered at the sudden comment. “Why did I... tell the truth?”

“Yes,” she grumbled.

“Because... I don't know.” Alya blinked, staring at her quizzically across the table. “You're not—oh, _oh_! It's finally happened! You're interested in him!”

She'd been interested in him for many years, but her friend didn't need to know that—she wouldn't believe her if she mentioned the mirror either. “Hush,” she scolded instead. “There's no point in making a scene.”

“Let's see if you like your date first, okay?” the red-head whispered, cupping a hand over her mouth dramatically. “If not, go seduce that sweet thing running the shop.”

“ _Alya_ ,” she hissed, flushing at her words. “You're being ridiculous.”

She sniffed. “I'm just trying to get you laid.”

“Great,” Marinette muttered, “now eat your cake.”

For all of her life, her parents had ran and owned a successful pâtisserie within Paris so she was familiar with confectioneries and how to produce them, so when she took her first small forkful of the cake Adrien had given them for free, she was torn on how to feel. The texture and taste were fine, but the presentation was rushed and didn't do it justice—maybe he was understaffed so he didn't have time to decorate and attempt to display them properly.

By the time they had finished their small pieces of cakes, the bell chimed above the door indicating that new customers were arriving. Two males walked through the door, and by her friend's reaction of turning her head around once to glance and then whip it around and blatantly stare, she assumed that they were both of their dates.

“Alya!” a tanned male called, waving enthusiastically at her. He had thick ebony-coloured hair that was quite curly, cut short so it was styled messily upon his head. With dark sienna eyes behind his thick-rimmed spectacles, he clearly quite attractive. His t-shirt was loose and casual, along with his jeans that clung to his legs—it was clear that he, who she assumed as Nino, wasn't a novice when it came to dressing himself. “It's great to see you again.”

And then, her eyes fell onto the shorter male beside him who was shifting upon his feet awkwardly with a strained smile. He had dark chestnut-coloured hair that fell to above his eyebrows that had a slight kink in it, and equally brown eyes that were darting nervously around the room. His white t-shirt had a low neckline—which wasn't doing him any favours—with sand-coloured shorts that were just below his knees; it wasn't the look she would've suggested for anyone's first date, let alone when they didn't know who they were matched with.

“Hey, Nino,” Alya greeted with a wide smile, standing up to embrace him lightly in a quick gesture. “I was wondering whether you'd gotten lost.”

“Definitely not,” he replied, “Jean was just running late.”

The other male's name was Jean, then. Nino and Alya took their places on the cushions on their side of the table, while Jean hovered awkwardly next to her without sitting down or attempting to create a conversation. Marinette watched with pursed lips as he nervously looked around the room multiple times before finally gathering his courage and placing himself down beside her.

Marinette decided to try and coax him into conversation, as Bridgette had climbed back onto the red-head's lap and was sniffing at Nino's offered hand. “Hello,” she said.

Jean stiffened, hands clawing into his thighs. “Hi,” he croaked, eyes wide.

“...Are you okay?”

“Ye— _no_ ,” he choked out, shuffling back an inch or so and pulling the cushion with him. “N-no, I'm not.”

Well, the date was going alarmingly well already. As Alya and Nino were cooing over the feline upon the red-head's lap fondly, she was sat beside a male who was shifting awkwardly and had a suspiciously shiny upper lip. If he hadn't been nervous and fidgety, then there was a chance that he could have been considered cute—he just wasn't on Adrien's level. She asked tentatively whether he'd been to the café before, but Jean simply gnawed anxiously on his lower lip and kept his gaze on the room. Marinette stared blatantly at her friend across the table, raising her eyebrows in silent inquisition when Alya merely blinked in surprise.

Alya's eyes widened before she covered her mouth in an attempt not to laugh. Bridgette jumped from the vibrations of her contained laughter and visibly stiffened, then abruptly darted across the room and disappeared within a bed, making it so they could no longer see her. The dark-haired female frowned at her friend, eyes gesturing towards Jean who was close to hyperventilating.

“Dude,” Nino started, eyebrows knitting together in concern for his friend, “are you okay?”

Jean waved his hand in front of his flushed face, attempting to cool himself down. “I-I said this wasn't a good idea.”

“I thought you meant the fucking date,” he exclaimed, jumping up and pressing his hand against Jean's forehead to feel his temperature. “You're burning up, man. What's going on?”

“I _told_ you,” Jean wheezed in reply.

Nino huffed and raised his hand, waving frantically to catch the blond's attention across the room. “Adrien! Hey, Adrien! Bit of an emergency over here!”

Right. She'd forgotten the little bit of information that Alya had known—that he was friend's with the owner, who was clearly Adrien at that point; he was the only person with an apron on, therefore an employee, and since he turned his head and smiled widely and waved back to Nino, it was clear that they really did know each other. Marinette just didn't know that since her soulmate never had visitors within his room—goodness, she'd never even glimpsed any parental figures in his room since she'd discovered him.

At the thought of her sight of his bedroom, she wondered where the black-coloured feline that she'd seen for at least a year had wandered off to. If the blond owned a cat café, then surely he allowed his own cat to wander through it? She looked around, but all the felines she could see were multi-coloured or light and preoccupied with the other customers, except for Bridgette who was still hiding within a cat bed, peeking out of the side every few minutes before retreating back.

Adrien was all smiles when he stopped in front of them.

She gulped.

“What's up, Nino?” he asked kindly.

Nino frowned. “I don't know, my friend's just freaking out here, and I... I think he's having a panic attack.”

“I-I just need to leave,” Jean choked out, stuttering over his words and wiping frantically at his clammy face. They watched as he stood up and collected his possessions, muttering intelligibly under his breath before running through the door with the bells still chiming by the time we was out of sight.

Marinette blinked, unsure how to think since her date had ran away within minutes.

“So...” Nino started, drawling his words out as he smiled sheepishly at her. “Sorry about your date?”

“...Me, too,” Alya added, shrugging her shoulders.

She grinned, well aware of Adrien's stare on her at that moment. “Clearly, we weren't meant to be,” she joked. “I didn't hear any marriage bells in the future.”

“Oh!” Nino suddenly exclaimed, slapping his hands together in an exaggerated gesture of recognition. “I'm such an idiot—Jean said he disliked cats, but I didn't think it would be this bad.”

Dislike seemed like an understatement. He'd sweat profusely and watched the room with nervous eyes, and now that she knew that the reason for his discomfort had been the felines instead of her, or even the fact that he was on a date, it soothed some of the frustrations that had started to build. But still, she was the third wheel of her best friend's date so she'd be sat there awkwardly while the two of them were going to converse and reminisce about their shared past (which from what she knew, wasn't too much).

“Well,” Adrien started, wiping his hands on his pristine apron. “Can I get you guys anything? On the house because of Nino, of course. He's a free ticket for you lovely ladies.” He grinned, the small dimples clear on his cheeks.

Even though she willed herself not to, Marinette's cheeks grew warm from the generic praise.

“Have the menus still not arrived?” Nino asked.

Adrien shook his head.

The curly-haired male raised his eyebrows. “And I assume you still haven't hired anyone else to help? You're going to go mad trying to organise everything by yourself. And are you aware that Félix is trying to steal someone's coffee right now?”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Adrien cursed under his breath, searching through his pockets until he found a stuffed mouse toy within his jeans. He threw it expertly across the room, caching the attention of a monotone-coloured cat that had white fur on the bottom of his paws, so the feline raced off of a table to chase after the toy. “That bloody cat just likes the milk in the drinks. It's getting ridiculous.”

“You need _help_ ,” Nino pointed out. “Why don't you put up a sign asking for résumés?”

He ran a hand through his golden tresses. “I keep forgetting. Do you know anyone around here that's looking for work?”

It was a great opportunity. Before she could fully think through her decision, Marinette raised her hand in a gesture akin to that in education and blurted, “I'd love to!”

He blinked in surprise. “Really?”

Ignoring the incredulous stare of her best friend, Marinette's cheeks grew hot. “Yes.”

-x-

It was the best decision that she'd ever made on a whim. Her parents had been so pleased when she told them that she'd found a job within a café, which didn't get in the way of her designing or online boutique, and that she was handling pasties and other such sweet foods. Initially she was in charge of keeping the cats from running away through the open door, or eating and drinking the assortment of things customers ordered, but when she'd revealed the information that she'd grown up helping out in a successful pâtisserie, Adrien had looked blissfully happy at the reveal.

The dress code was simple; anything that didn't reveal her breasts or buttocks, while wearing the half-apron that was wrapped around her waist which included a small notepad and pen to write down orders, and that was all. There was no nametag, so she kindly introduced herself to whoever passed through the doors. It turned out that Adrien wasn't talented at decorating the desserts, and it wasn't because he had a lack of time—which certainly had been the case in the beginning—but because his hands were clumsy and often brushed against the sweet toppings and ruined the masterpiece that had been there previously. So their method of creation turned out to be the blond baking in the early mornings when she arrived, and then she would happily decorate his assortment of foods and display them in a small display case that she'd persuaded him to order.

He was just as charming as his appearance. Adrien constantly smiled whenever they made eye contact, and the soft dimples combined with the sheer friendliness in his expression made her heart flutter. He was everything that she could want in a love interest—from seeing his strange sense of humour, hearing the occasional cat pun that he uttered, along with the clumsiness that was just so endearing in a sweet way, she'd fallen increasingly smitten with him. Adrien was... good; that was the best way to describe him. When a customer came in and was disappointed with their experience, or when a feline scratched them and made them bleed in any way, he comforted them and tried to soothe their frustrations to the best of his ability.

“Marinette,” he called, extending the syllables of her name. “You're daydreaming again.”

Her cheeks coloured. “My bad,” Marinette murmured, brushing the creases from her apron.

After she'd mentioned that she was self-employed as a designer, Adrien had paid her handsomely to re-design their aprons, since the first lot that he'd worn had frayed and started to fall apart pathetically after a second wash. She'd added more stitches of multi-coloured paw prints across the apron, and made it so Adrien's ended at his waist, rather than covering his chest as well. When he'd asked why the style change, Marinette had swiftly changed the subject—he didn't need to know that the female customers had increased after he began to show more of his body.

“You're staring at the same table again,” he pointed out, leaning on the counter beside her. She was standing behind the display case, supposed to be picking a customer's selected dish. “Is there someone you like over there? I still feel bad about your date bolting out all that time ago, so you can get off early if you'd like to pursue them.”

The ambiguous use of gender words caught her attention. Marinette raised her eyebrows and coolly pointed out, “Félix is working together with Bridgette—she's distracting them so he can lap at their food.”

“I give up,” he groaned, running his fingers through his hair.

She patted his back. “Your children are out of control.”

“I didn't raise them this way.” Adrien sighed. “So you're not interested in either of Félix's victims, then?”

Eyeing them for a few moments and humming under her breath, aware of his inquisitive eyes on her face, Marinette took in the two; a female with short ebony-coloured hair and a nice smile, and a male with his black hair coiffed stylishly. They were together as friends, as the girl was quite the regular at the café since she was fond of felines but her room-mate was allergic, so it was clear that they weren't a couple from their lack of affectionate gestures to each other. Yet the mere question of whether she was interested in someone had quite the reaction of her part. She knew that it was just friendly curiosity, yet her muscles clenched and became stiff.

He still didn't know about her. Marinette had been working at the café for three months, having started two days after she'd blurted out that she was interested, and since that time she had simply stole glances at him during the day before seeing him again in the evenings within her mirror, finally knowing exactly how he spent his days.

“No,” she said, looking him in the eyes. “I'm not.”

He grinned. “Excuse me.” And with that, he scooped the scheming feline into his arms and plopped him beside another table, introducing the cat with a charming smile and withholding the information that if there food on the table Félix would most likely attempt to eat it in any way possible.

Alya had pestered her constantly after their failed double date. They'd found out while nursing a bottle of wine together one evening that Jean had an irrational fear of cats, and had told that to Nino beforehand, but Nino had thought that it was a joke. Her red-headed friend had hit it off with her date, though, which made her smile widely when she heard the juicy details despite her protests. It turned out that Nino had had a large crush on her as a child and had written a long romantic card, but Alya had transferred away before she could receive it. Alya had gushed and groaned about how terribly romantic it was, and even stated that she would write a novel about their story because teenage girls would surely fall for their dumb tale—especially the part where Alya had wrongly thought he was a stalker of some sort, yet still agreed to the date bemusedly.

The only friend Adrien knew before the café had opened was Nino. Adrien had been the curly-haired male's pen-pal, and he'd moved per Nino's suggestion when he had the ludicrous idea of the café—all because he'd wanted a cat, and he liked big commitments.

The feline that constantly stayed within his room was revealed to be Plagg, and he preferred to laze around in Adrien's apartment on the upper floor, rather than deal with strangers in the café. The feline had wandered down once and she'd heard a strange high-pitched noise while working in the kitchen, and after inspecting behind a door she'd seen the familiar black-coloured feline before he'd ran back up the stairs and disappeared into the confines of his room once again. Plagg didn't venture downstairs very often, only a few times when the café was closed and she was still cleaning up, or when Adrien was working on baking in the early hours of the morning.

So when she'd returned to the display case to watch the café after delivering a customer their selected items, she almost jumped in surprise when warm fur brushed against her exposed calves. From having been around cats constantly for months she didn't squeak in shock from sudden close contact any more—so it was from looking down and seeing that it was Plagg, with his wide viridian-tinged eyes and innocent expression, that she'd allowed a noise of bewilderment escape.

“Hey, little man,” she greeted, dropping down to her knees and offering her hand for the feline to sniff. “This is early for you. Everything okay?” And from the contact with said cats, she'd began to converse with them openly (something she was rather shy about in the beginning).

One of the best things, other than seeing Adrien bend over to collect items from the low coffee tables, was seeing him converse with the felines and attempt to hold conversations while smiling brightly when they made noises back at him. It was so fucking endearing that she'd simply gaped the first time she'd witnessed it.

Plagg audibly vibrated and rubbed against her offered fingers.

“Hang on,” she cooed, stroking the feline's head. “I have something you'll enjoy.”

After putting some of their new cat treats in a small dish, she wiped her hands clean before attending to the rest of the customers. Adrien hadn't mentioned needing any more help after she'd joined; the menus had been sorted, their food was on display—although they only offered a sweet selection and nothing savoury—and although they often had queues outside of the door with customers waiting to be seated, he never brought up the topic. The café was quite small in size, but it was quaint and had a certain charm to it. She'd helped him finish setting up speakers so soft music played through them, and things were just going so _well_.

He was laughing while talking to someone, and the sound was one of her favourites; especially when it was slightly breathless from surprise.

“I love you,” she murmured, watching him touch his neck in a self-conscious gesture, “but you don't want me.”

Why would he suddenly? It had been five years, three months and two days since she'd accidentally wished to see her soulmate, and he didn't share the same thought. But as she watched him flutter around the room with charming smiles and precious words spilling from his lips, she supposed it was enough to see him in the flesh; to see his smile, the glimmer in his eyes up close and to hear the low tones of his voice when he spoke.

Even if her heart ached, it was okay.

-x-

Their first joint decision had been absolutely awful. They'd decided that Félix was far too pesky and that they needed to keep better tabs on him during business hours, so Marinette had ordered a bell and a generic black collar to attach around his neck. The noise was terribly irritating; hearing the constant chiming of the bell, and watching the monotone cat mockingly lick himself slowly on what seemed like on purpose to cause more noise simply grated on her nerves. Adrien shared much the same thoughts—he was groaning, running his fingers through the golden hairs of his temples.

“That's it!” he exclaimed, hands emphasising his words. “T-that bell needs to be removed!”

She sighed. “He'll just run away.”

“I'm going to go insane,” Adrien prattled on incredulously, “you're going to have to put me in to therapy and that cat is going to be so _smug_ about it.”

“Stop throwing a pity paw-ty,” she replied, rolling her eyes at his exaggerated sigh. “Just lure him over with treats then we'll take it off him. It's a bit strange that there's only one cat with a collar, after all.”

Adrien frowned despite the pun (that usually made him smile beautifully). “He's already supposed to be on a diet, so treats will only make him closer to being fat.”

“Adrien,” Marinette said, fond laughter clear in her voice, “Félix is _not_ fat. You control their diets very well; a little bit of cream every now and then won't make them inflate into balloons.”

“Well, with the amount he eats...”

Whenever Alya asked why she wanted to work at the café, she'd say that the cute blond running the place combined with the adorable cats meant that she was sold as soon as she heard that he was looking for employees. Her friend constantly teased her for her crush, and she never corrected the accusation—it wasn't wrong, after all. It was deeper than an infatuation, though; Marinette's heart beat faster whenever he smiled warmly at her, and she blushed multiple times each day whenever he did something that was particularly sweet, even if it wasn't directed at her.

She could proudly say that they were friends.

“Can I ask you something?” Marinette started, interrupting his mumbled thoughts about Félix's weight. “I... I don't want you to take this the wrong way, really,” she stuttered, stumbling over her words rather than her feet, “but you're very... reserved.”

His smile was small, confused, and the slightly raised eyebrows showed that he wanted her to continue and elaborate.

Marinette cleared her throat. “I've noticed that you've, well, never agreed to a date from what I've seen. N-not that you—I-I mean not that _I_ follow you around.”

Not of her own accord, at least. While there had been a few tense moments when customers had approached him and tried to coax the blond to go on a date elsewhere, he had always politely declined and continued onto the next table without so much as fluttering an eyelid.

“So you've noticed,” Adrien murmured, tapping his fingertips thoughtfully upon the countertop, “or do you mean you've been told by a certain nosey friend of mine?”

Her cheeks coloured but she stubbornly tried to keep her expression neutral. “I don't know what you're talking about,” Marinette tried to say, voice higher than usual.

It was a blessing that their best friends were dating successfully. She'd managed to wrangle more information out of Alya about him than she would've been able to otherwise. She'd learned that he was home-schooled for most of his life, that he'd moved from another country to fulfil his spontaneous dream, and that he'd avoided dating anyone since he was young despite the sheer amount of pursuers he had over the years. Alya either hadn't mumbled the reason during their weekly drinking sessions, or she simply hadn't been told by her boyfriend.

“Nice try.” Adrien smiled despite the breach of privacy. “It's not that I'm rejecting everyone without much reason—I just want to be sure of them instead of casually dating.”

“No sex before marriage?” she joked despite her frantically beating heart.

His lips twitched as he deadpanned, “Not unless they're very purr-suasive.”

“I'm very certain you stole that pun from me, actually,” Marinette pointed out with a sly smile. “How are you going to make this betrayal up to me?”

Placing a hand on his chest in mock offense, Adrien gasped, “Oh, no—but unless you have proof that you're finally better than me at puns, then I'm afraid that I simply won't believe you.”

Childishly, she stuck her tongue out in a silly gesture. He laughed in response and the sound warmed her heart—and her cheeks, certainly—and as she saw the fond smile upon his lips and the beautiful dusting of blond upon the ends of his long eyelashes, she found herself asking, “Do you believe in the mirror legend?”

He blinked. “Mirror legend?” Adrien parroted, breathing audibly through his nose. “I've heard of it, yes—my mother was fond of telling me about it whenever she tucked me in at night. That was a long time ago, though. I don't remember it too well.”

That little piece of information meant that perhaps his mother had passed away, along with his belief in it. Marinette gnawed on her lower lip, staring into his emerald eyes as he looked at her with muted curiosity. She told herself that she was happy to simply be by his side as a colleague, friend, and whatever else he wanted he to be. Yet, as her gaze her soft at his slightly confused expression, she rubbed her fingers together and took in a deep breath.

“Legend has it that if someone were to wish to see their soulmate while gazing in a mirror,” she started, voice breathy and hushed, and she didn't blink as they continued to stare at each other, “that they would see a glimpse of them; for a few seconds, enough to recognise them in person.”

“Strange,” he murmured, running a hand through his hair. “How would that work? What if they weren't there when you wished to see them—actually, how the fuck would you see them anyway? It's not like there's a random camera that your mirror could tap into.”

Despite his disbelief, the quizzical questions that escaped his lips caused her to snort in amusement. Marinette covered her mouth with her hand, attempting to stifle the laughter as the blond looked visibly surprised at her reaction; perhaps he had assumed that she'd agreed with his points, rather than begin to laugh aloud at them.

“S-sorry,” she stuttered through her laughter, wiping her cheek in a self-conscious movement. “It's a legend, Adrien. The details are never going to be exact.”

“Okay.” He blinked. “Then will you tell me what you believe?”

Her smile was strained. “What makes you think I believe in it?”

The blond shrugged his shoulders lightly, raising his eyebrows. “You didn't agree with my rather logical points just now—in fact, you laughed at them. You hurt my feelings there, Marinette.” She tried not to laugh at that, too. “So, I'd like to hear your point of view of this.”

“Okay,” she found herself saying, “but you have to promise not to laugh.”

If he were to laugh at her experience—though he certainly didn't know that—she thought that she'd want to curl into a ball and cry about her feeling for a while. But five years, six months and fifteen days of seeing him within her mirror certainly moulded her feelings into a very genuine, fragile ball of bubbling secrecy.

He agreed with a bemused expression.

“I-I know... I _think_ that it would only work between full-length mirrors. The first versions I heard always mentioned them, so perhaps it would—maybe—connect between two and allow a peek through the other; so if they were in front of the mirror, the one that had wished to see their soulmate would glimpse and see them.”

There was a silence growing between them as Adrien mulled over the idea given, not blurting the first thing that came to mind like she would've done if their positions were flipped. She was silently begging for him to accept the information, not to question the very belief and blow her off; asking quietly between the sentences for him to allow the idea that there was a soulmate out there for him (or, rather, in front of him unknowingly). She wanted to shout, wave her hands madly and proclaim that she was the very one for him—but that would just cause the opposite reaction that she wanted. Unless he were to pursue her of his own accord, she wasn't going to attempt to coax the male out on a date. Being friends was enough until he sought her out personally, if the day ever came.

His expression was neutral; a mixture of curiosity and a blank look. Marinette tore her gaze away when they'd made eye contact again, choosing to stare at her fiddling hands upon the countertop.

He was the first to break their silence. “You make it sound very one-sided.”

“Yes,” she murmured, “it would—I-I believe it would be, unless the other wished to see their soulmate, too.”

“That would be quite lonely, if it were true,” Adrien mused, and she could feel his stare boring into her flushed cheeks, “let's hope that people can accept that they're their own soulmates, then.”

And with that answer, Adrien's hand gently squeezed her shoulder in a comforting gesture before he disappeared across the room to place their open sign outside, ready for the day. Marinette wondered whether that was what he really thought; and if it was, then she was at least happy that he was content with himself.

-x-

He was crying.

Marinette didn't know what to do. She sat in front of her mirror, pillow clutched in her lap as she watched anxiously through her mirror without the ability to do _anything_ at all. She'd seen him do a vast majority of things, but sobbing quietly—or so she assumed from his barely moving mouth—was the worst thing to witness. Through the years she'd come to expect that approaching evening; she'd connected the dots when he mentioned his mother in passing once, and realised that every year on an exact date would he cry his heart out.

Plagg was there, kneading at his thighs and attempting to comfort him.

The blond swiped furiously at his stained cheeks, eyes red and quite swollen, a spurt of either sobs or laughter escaping as he looked down at the feline.

Marinette wiped her tears, too, muttering under her breath that she was being ridiculous.

When they met at the café the next day, she didn't mention the dark bags underneath his eyes, nor the fact that he hadn't styled his hair in the same beautiful fashion as always, and he responded much the same without mentioning anything about hers. So when she began to walk towards the kitchen to decorate their delicacies for that day, she was surprised when he gently caught hold of her wrist and stopped her from entering.

“Wait,” he murmured, “I'm not opening the café today.”

The question of whether he was okay was on the tip of her tongue, but she held it in. Marinette glanced at him over her shoulder, taking in the slightly painted expression as they made eye contact. She just—she _needed_ to comfort him, but she couldn't without hovering awkwardly and invading his personal space.

“Okay,” she replied.

And as they stood simply staring at each other; her with furrowed eyebrows and a concerned expression, and him looking quite pained and uncomfortable—was he okay with her being there during his vulnerable moment? He wasn't aware that she'd witnessed it many times during the years, and although she knew that he wallowed in the shadows of his room alone most of the time, it wasn't clear whether he found comfort with his friends outside.

She found herself saying, “Do you want to go somewhere else?”

To her surprise, Adrien licked his lips before saying, “Okay.”

He smiled softly at her and she returned the gesture. After a few minutes of quiet debates on where they would venture to, as it was still within the early hours of the morning restricting their access to most shops that were local, Marinette didn't protest when he searched up different locations on his cell phone before deciding on where to go. When she asked, he simply said that it would be a surprise after they'd confirmed that they had the rest of the day free.

On their bus ride there, Marinette was thankful that she'd worn dark-stained jeans along with a warm black sweater.

“I like the cat attire today,” was his only comment.

Her cheeks warmed and she was glad that Alya had given her the sweater as a gag gift, suggesting that she should wear it at work since it was decorated with a reoccurring pattern of cartoon cats wearing various silly expressions. And despite the fact that red-head had expected her to throw it into the back of her closet, she'd laughed and claimed that she loved it—and now that the blond had genuinely smiled, along with exhaling through his nose in a gesture close to quiet laughter, it was even better.

When they arrived at their destination, Marinette couldn't hold in her laughter. Arms around her sides to keep warm from the brisk weather, she felt the bubbles of laughter build within her chest before she was chortling heartily, well aware of the blond's perplexed gaze on her, attempting to understand her reaction. But, really, what had she been expecting?

“Y-you're obsessed,” she choked out.

He blinked. “That's not very nice.”

The café had been closed, and from all the different scenarios that she'd imagined her head of where they would visit on their first outing together (maybe even a date), the location they were at hadn't came to mind—because she'd expected that he'd visited enough times, and wasn't interested any more. Her cheeks were warm and hurting slightly from the large smile she was sporting, and all Adrien could do was return it with concern within his expression.

It was a large pet store, one that used to always be advertised on television when she watched it back at her parents'. There was a large section full of different animals that constantly bragged about their variety while the rest was full of supplies and other such things. As if to humour her, they walked slowly through the pet section, staring for longer than necessary at different animals that she knew didn't interest him too much. She pursed her lips at the snakes, tried to withhold laughter when he jerked back in surprise at the birds, before finally sighing and pushing at his back to indicate it was time to go.

“Okay, sir,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You've proved you're not obsessed. Go on, go look for the cats.”

He narrowed his eyes for a moments before breaking into a grin, grabbing her lightly by the wrist and dragging her along, too. Thankfully it was out of work hours that he was quite touchy—if he ever brushed her shoulder or pulled her by her hand within the café in front of customers, she was sure she'd squeak or drop whatever she was holding (which was usually plates or mugs, which would end up being quite expensive in return for the brief warmth of his hands).

Adrien's pace picked up as they turned the corner. “ _Yes_ , they have kittens!”

“...You're buying a kitten, aren't you?” she questioned slowly.

His grin was almost blinding as they stopped in front of a playpen. “Maybe.”

Trying not to sigh, she asked, “How many cats do you have currently, Adrien?”

Gnawing on his lower lip, Adrien dramatically rubbed his lower chin in an exaggerated movement, along with humming. “Well,” he started, raising his eyebrows, “a few?”

“Name them,” she deadpanned.

“Okay,” Adrien agreed, holding his hands up in a gesture meaning he needed a moment to think. “There's Plagg, Félix, Bridgette, Lila...”

She tried to keep her smile as flat as her tone, “Go on.”

“Then we've got Fang, Nooroo and Wayzz...” Adrien trailed off.

The last names were strange, and when she'd learned that the first few days that he had been open—when parents had taken their intrigued children into the café—that he'd taken suggestions from the children on what to call the remaining three felines, she'd laughed despite the ridiculous names.

Her eyes flickered to the playpen; it was usually what held young children in, she realised, except for the occasion there were six different kittens inside, some from the same litter from their matching burnt orange-coloured fur patches, while the others had longer hair and were white. She looked between the kittens that were either snoozing, eating the food that was in endearingly tiny dishes within, or staring at them, and back to Adrien's smile and slightly raised eyebrows—it was an expression that was quite close to pleading, actually.

“One,” she started, making sure her expression showed that she was serious. “You can have _one_ , Adrien, as that way you'll have an even number and be happy.”

“Great!” He grinned. “Pick one, then, Marinette.”

She blinked. “ _Me_?”

“Well, yes,” the blond started, gesturing her forward to peer into the playpen. “I've chosen seven, so it's only fair that my best employee gets to pick one.”

“I'm also your worst,” she pointed out, stilling as her shoulder as pressed against his side as they looked down. The kittens were very cute, she could agree. The youngest feline at the café was over a year, Plagg, as he was the only cat that Adrien had raised from eight weeks. The rest he had found at a rescue centre, and they loved him enough that she hadn't expected that answer at all (she'd thought they just hadn't been allowed in his room, then Plagg was the exception). “Do I have any restrictions?”

He hummed. “You can have free reign, just this once.”

“My hero,” she drawled.

As she watched the tiny felines that were all staring at them curiously, some climbing over each other in attempts to get closer, Marinette was focused on just how close they were—her side was almost plastered against him, and he wasn't making any indication to move. All she wanted to do was embrace him, comfort him and his partially swollen eyes, but she couldn't. So, she caught the gaze of one of the honey-coloured kittens, noticing the dark flecks across their fur that was akin to spots, and tentatively asked the male beside her if they were okay.

An employee put a temporary black collar around the feline, told them that it was a female, and said they could collect her whenever they were ready—which meant when Adrien was done browsing the store. She rolled her eyes as he picked up _another_ carrier—they already had far too many in their storage room—before waltzing through the store to find kitten food and toys.

“You're going to spoil her rotten,” she observed as he was inspecting tiny stuffed mice.

He grinned. “Of course.”

“There's no room for two cats to sleep in your hair,” she muttered.

He still heard her, though. Adrien faltered in his step, expression unreadable as he stared blatantly at her. Marinette quickly realised her mistake; Adrien had never invited her upstairs into his apartment, let alone mentioned Plagg's sleeping habits. It was sensitive information that only she was secretly privy to.

She blurted the first thing that came to mind. “There's sometimes black fur in your hair!”

His eyes narrowed in suspicion as he raised his hand to the golden tresses, self-consciously feeling the strands to see if there was any fur intertwined. She pursed her lips, unsure whether he was going to believe the lame explanation—but to her surprise, he did. Adrien laughed it off, causing her expression to quickly turn incredulous, and he distracted her by choosing cat toys.

They bought a new bed, another tiny scratching post and some furniture contraption that would balance upon the radiator for when the weather grew colder. Her cheeks hurt from smiling by the time the kitten was safely tucked within the carrier, upon her lap within the bus. Adrien insisted that she needed to bond with her, so she would potentially follow her around the café, and for a while she thought that he was expecting her to bring the feline back home with her, too.

After placing their purchases inside, Marinette decided to spend her remaining time focusing on her boutique, rather than hovering awkwardly. Outside of the café, Marinette made sure the male was safely cradling the carrier when she announced it would be in her best interest to leave, if they weren't going to open for that day. He agreed with a soft smile, and she swallowed audibly from the sheer happiness that was in his expression. It was a clear contrast to that morning when she'd seen his reddened eyes and frown. Whether it was because of her or the new feline was unclear, though.

“Marinette!” he called.

She stilled, looking over her shoulder in the street.

Adrien's hands were still clasping the carrier protectively. “Do you want to come inside? Upstairs?” His head jerked in an attempt to gesture to his apartment.

The first thing she thought of was seeing the inside of his bedroom from a different perspective. Her cheeks warmed as she nodded tentatively, a small smile upon her lips. Adrien's returned grin was sincere, showing the soft dimples of his cheeks and she felt her pulse quicken from the realisation that this male— _he_ , her soulmate—was inviting her happily into his home after months of being friends. He was opening up, and there was nothing that could have made her happier at that moment.

“Ignore their pleading glances,” Adrien murmured as they passed the clowder of cats, “they don't actually _like_ it upstairs.”

She laughed when a few whined in return. “Does Plagg not get on with them?”

“I don't think he really cares, honestly,” the blond grumbled, steadying the carrier in one hand so he could successfully open doors again. As they ascended the stairs to his apartment, Marinette peeked upwards a few times to admire the view—because, well, it was still her soulmate's backside. “They used to steal his toys when I first introduced, so there's probably a grudge there.”

“It would be nice to see him downstairs more,” she mentioned, “he's very sweet.” Especially whenever the feline attempted to comfort Adrien, or pawed at his hair during the night to create the perfect bed.

Adrien snorted. “When he wants to be.”

“Like you, then,” she retorted, trying not to laugh.

He stilled on the top of the stairs, glancing over his shoulder with an offended expression. Laughter spilled through her lips from the exaggerated expression, and he took only a few moments before laughing, too.

The apartment was slightly nicer than hers (with a severe lack of cracked walls, though). He'd decorated it sparingly, with only one picture of a woman with golden-coloured hair and his eyes, who she assumed to be his mother, upon the wall within the living room. The kitchen wasn't covered or separated by a wall, so she was able to see the gleaming countertops and everything that was to offer in the first section of the apartment. Marinette removed her shoes happily—it was amusing to see him almost trip while attempting to remove his without putting the carrier down—and perched herself upon the edge of a leather sofa that had suspicious scratch marks upon the sides. There were two dark-stained doors that were closed, and she assumed they were to the bathroom and his bedroom—hopefully he specified which later, if necessary.

Adrien was glancing around the room, trying to determine where best to place the carrier so the kitten wouldn't be scared away.

“Why don't you just put her beside us?” she suggested, trying not to chortle at his serious expression.

“I don't know where Plagg is.”

Her eyes flickered around the room. “Unless he's excellent at hiding, I think you might have locked him in your room.”

At the mention of his room, he whipped his head around quickly, cursing underneath his breath. “Here,” he murmured, placing the carrier into her bewildered arms, “I need to find that stupid cat. He can't even open a _door_.”

The second door lead to his bedroom, then. It turned out that Plagg's deepest secret was that when he simply had to curl his paw around the door to pull it open, he pushed against it instead and constantly locked himself inside the bathroom or bedroom when Adrien was away. She tried not to laugh, really, but seeing Adrien's disgruntled expression from his cat's antics caused persistent laughter to spill from her lips. The blond sat beside her, lower lip jutting out in a dramatic expression.

“Do you want to watch a film?” he asked while retrieving the carrier from her shaking hands.

Marinette stilled, grasping for air when the object was gone. “I— _yes_.”

“Any preferences?”

Seeing the mischievous expression that was playing upon his face, the dark-haired female deadpanned, “No cats.”

As it turned out, Adrien had a peculiar taste in films. He'd shuffled through the collection he had in the drawer beneath the television, shaking his head silently when the selected one wasn't deemed appropriate. And when he'd finally settled for one, Marinette had been baffled for the first ten minutes—two characters had already been murdered with far too much blood being shown, and Adrien wasn't phased at all; rather, he was enjoying himself with a genuine smile upon his face. And throughout the various scenes that were supposed to make the audience jump, she was far too focused attempting to look at him from her peripheral vision. Seeing his face illuminated by a screen, so close and just within reach, while the setting sun was causing shadows to became clearer within the apartment caused her heart to flutter constantly.

He probably thought she liked horror films. In truth, she watched them with Alya when they were thoroughly intoxicated so they could screech and laugh together.

The carrier had been set down beside the sofa, and they couldn't tell whether the kitten had ventured outside thus far. After Adrien had checked constantly every five minutes, she had scolded him and said to wait and not pressure the poor feline.

The screen faded to black as the credits rolled. Marinette blinked, running a hand through her hair before stretching.

“I hadn't seen that one yet,” Adrien murmured, voice thick before he cleared his throat. “I don't know whether I liked it, but it was unintentionally funny at times.”

If he asked her opinion of the plot, the plan was to agree with his. She couldn't remember the important details for the life of her. “Yes.”

“Can I check on Cat now?”

“...Did you just call her _Cat_?” Marinette asked incredulously.

Adrien grinned, shrugging his shoulders lightly. “If you don't want to name her, that shall be the unfortunate name—she'll be the star of the café. People will think it's hers.”

“You're ridiculous,” she replied. “Bridgette would bully her.”

“Bridgette just shows her love in mysterious ways,” the blond corrected while pushing himself up from the couch. With his eyes scrunched shut, Adrien raised his arms above his head to stretch and her eyes darted down to see the exposed flesh (there was no apron to keep his shirt from riding up). Her cheeks warmed pleasantly, and she wondered how'd she been so lucky as to end up with someone who's appearance was equally as beautiful as their personality.

An eyebrow was raised when he noticed where her gaze was directed. Marinette reddened further, teeth sinking into her lower lip as she was unsure how to respond. And to her utter surprise, Adrien winked.

He hadn't done that before. Within her time working at the café, he had been polite to others, friendly, and their friendship had progressed steadily as the workload was split eventually. Other than their conversations within work time, they hadn't actively sought each other in their free time. In fact, their outing that day was the first time they had been together outside of the workplace.

She gulped.

“Do you want anything to eat?” Adrien enquired, his sock-clad feet padding towards the kitchen quietly. “Or a drink, maybe?”

“I'm fine,” she replied, fanning her heated face discreetly.

“Are yo— _oh_!” His sentence was cut off abruptly. Marinette jumped to her feet, chortling softly when she realised that he'd tripped over a stray cardboard box. It was one that was decorated with ink, styled to have a windows and flower baskets drawn across the material; clearly for a certain cat's enjoyment. “Fucking Plagg,” Adrien murmured, pushing the box aside, fondness clear in his voice.

When he'd tried to have boxes out for the cats to play with downstairs, some customers had mistaken them for rubbish and taken them on the way out, throwing them in the nearest recycle bin. But, of course, he'd still attempt to have some upstairs away from prying eyes.

Marinette was sat upon the sofa again when the blond trailed back, placing a clear plastic water bottle on the small table in front of them. With a grin, he sat beside her with a sigh and looked around the dimly-lit shadows in search for their new companion.

“Have you thought of a name yet, Marinette?” Adrien asked, leaning back against the cushions.

She hummed, rubbing her hands along her fabric-clad thighs. “I think Cat's growing on me.”

“I'm not falling for your lies, you devil.” He laughed.

Her smile was genuine. “What type of name would you prefer?”

Instead of replying, Adrien dramatically traced his chin with his index finger and thumb while scrunching his expression in a mocking gesture. She rolled her eyes, elbowing him gently on his upper arm.

His dimples showed as he grinned.

“Tikki,” she blurted, cheeks warming. “I'd like to call her Tikki.”

“Your wish is my command.”

He was still smiling at her. Marinette's nails dug into her the material of her jeans, resisting the urge to gnaw at her lower lip from the sheer nerves of the situation. His expression was soft, friendly and so very endearing and it caused her heartbeat to pick up and echo within her head repeatedly. It was a look that was usually directed at his feline companions, especially Plagg within the late hours of the evening, but it was at _her_.

“I don't say this enough,” he began, voice as soft as his expression, “but thank you, Marinette.”

Her throat felt dry.

“...You're welcome?”

The smile upon his lips was genuine, she knew; it reached his kind emerald eyes and showed the soft indents of his cheeks. “You're the best employee I could wish for—seriously, it was like all my wishes were answered when you applied.”

It became clear how close they were sitting. If she leaned closer to him, their shoulders would've touched.

“Thank you for hiring me,” she rasped.

“I'm not firing you,” Adrien interjected, hands flailing suddenly in front of his face for emphasis. They were closer than before, noses almost touching form his sudden movement. “Please, don't think that. I just wanted to show my gratitude, really.”

She hadn't thought that, though. “I'm assuming that's what the kitten's for.”

Adrien raised his eyebrows. “I've been hoping to get another for a while, actually. I thought you'd feel more... involved with the café if you chose one yourself.”

She blinked. “I don't think it's possible to be any more involved.” And she believed those words, really; there wasn't a way to be unless it wasn't on a professional level. Throughout the months she'd gone throughout many tasks, such as the ones that Adrien found himself too busy to complete. “Thank you for the thought, though. It was really sweet.”

“I feel like I don't appreciate you enough,” he admitted, a small smile across his lips. “Any idea how I can remedy that?”

Her breathing stuttered.

“You're silly,” Marinette replied, lips curling into a frown at how high-pitched her voice had become. Clearing her throat, she continued, “You do more than enough for me—I was just a random customer that wanted to work here. There was no reason to even accept me from just that.”

His smile grew as he pushed the golden strands from his forehead. “I've seen you before, though. You weren't a random customer.”

At his words, Marinette stilled. “What?” she said, well aware of how bewildered she sounded.

“I knew you,” Adrien pointed out, meeting her wide eyes with a reassuring expression. “I can promise that I'm not a stalker, but, well, you know that Nino used to really like Alya?”

Dumbly, she nodded.

“We were pen-pals growing up,” the blond explained, “I've been talking to him for years, so whenever someone used to ask him out before he saw Alya again, he used to gush all about her.” She knew the story, of course, from Alya's tales of her nights with her boyfriend. She hadn't heard the information uttered from the blond in front of her (he was rather private about his life before the café). “I... This is going to sound really awkward, but I've seen pictures of you for years.”

“I...” Marinette trailed off, cutting herself off to gulp. “How long?”

To her utter surprise, his cheeks turned a delicate shade of pink while he averted his eyes, gold-tinted eyelashes obstructing his eyes. “A while,” he started, laughing softly at how he sounded. “Nino just wanted to show me the girl he liked—forgot to mention that they hadn't actually talked before—and you just happened to be in most of the pictures. I think the first I saw was from you in secondary school?”

It was her cheeks that flamed from that. Marinette gnawed on her lips, uncertain of how to respond to his explanation. He may have seen her before she even knew he'd existed, but it wasn't for the same reason; it was foolish for her hopes to rise, but she couldn't stop the frantic beating of her heart from his words.

“So, I promise not to kill you,” he continued, grin widening and showing the whiteness of his teeth.

Narrowing her eyes playfully, she murmured, “I don't know how to feel about being stalked by my boss.”

“Flattered,” Adrien supplied.

“Violated,” she countered.

Though, if anyone had to right to feel violated, it was him. Her cheeks burned from the thought, causing the dark-haired female to avert her gaze and stare at the room. Blinking owlishly from surprise, Marinette pointed to small table in front of them, wondering how they hadn't noticed the intrusion.

The conversation was forgotten as they doted over the small kitten, and Marinette's cheeks began to hurt after hours had began to pass by. They'd spent more than the usual amount of time in each other's presence, and the blond had questioned it at all—he was far too busy attempting to coax Plagg to out of his bedroom to meet the new addition to the household. Despite the scratch marks across her hands and the swollen skin in some areas, it had been a delightful evening. They had brushed hands more than a few times during, and when Tikki had cautiously climbed onto Marinette's lap, the blond can shuffled closer and tapped his fingers on her thighs to attempt to attract the feline's attention.

When Adrien noticed the time—and she was truly shocked at how late it, especially since they had forgotten to eat—he began to insist that she could stay the night and he could sleep on the couch, to make her comfortable. Her response was to stumble over her words, horrified of the thought of sleeping in the very room she'd seen almost every night, and he attempted to soothe her by saying there was no reason to be embarrassed and that it was perfectly fine.

“Really,” the blond murmured, placing a comforting hand on her arm. “I'd be completely fine with it. It's past midnight already, what if something happens out there?”

She wet her lips. “I live ten minutes away, Adrien.”

“Wait.” He blinked. “You do?”

“You never asked,” she defended herself, making sure her cell phone and wallet were firmly tucked into her pockets. “I'll be absolutely fine. Thank you for tonight, well, today.”

He shook his head. “I'll walk you.”

“I studied martial arts!” Marinette blurted.

“Me, too.”

And with that, he was adamant that they were leaving together. After making sure Tikki wouldn't escape downstairs and meet the other cats too soon, they walked at a steady pace. Marinette shivered, rubbing her elbows in an attempt for warmth as they crossed the streets. It was undeniably sweet that he was escorting her, but she squashed the growing hopes quickly and hoped they stayed extinguished so their relationship wasn't damaged. Her cheeks were warm from his ridiculous jokes and the chilly breeze by the time they stopped before her apartment building.

They paused, eyes locked together and shared small, sincere smiles.

“Thank you for walking me,” she murmured.

Adrien reply was warming. “Thank you for everything.”

She shook her head. “I didn't do anything.”

And yet, his smile showed his dimples and the light from the lamps on the street were acting as a mangled form of a spotlight for him, highlighting his golden-coloured hair and fair complexion, only marred by the slight dusting of pink from the weather. They were close, steady breaths appearing in front of them from the temperature. Abruptly he reached forward, frozen fingers brushing against her own and grasping her hand softly.

“You should go inside,” Adrien advised, trailing his digits across her hand in a soothing manner. “Your fingers are freezing.”

“So are yours,” she found herself saying.

His lips curled into a sly smile. “I'll manage.”

The years had been kind to him. He was tall, lean, with a healthy glow to his skin despite the circumstance. Within the months they had been working together he had stopped styling his hair in the neatly arranged halo of golden tresses; they were free, flicking in whichever direction they wanted, and it was mused and coiffed in a way that he used to achieve within the late hours of the evening after running his hands through it too many times. It was clear that he was happier than he was more. The cats, the café, being nearer to Nino and, hopefully, she had improved his happiness, too.

“Do you want to come up for coffee?” she whispered, gesturing timidly with her free hand up to her window.

“I—” Adrien cut himself off, clearing his throat softly. His hand was still upon hers, and she could feel the soft skin and perhaps the slight callous at the bottom of his fingers from previous activities. “It's probably best if I see you tomorrow,” he murmured, voice lower than before.

When she opened her mouth to reply, it became apparent how close they were standing. Chests almost touching, within distance to feel his breath that was released, and share the tad of warmth that was offered. Her throat felt dry, and she closed her lips just as quickly as they opened with an uncertain expression. A touch on her free arm didn't make her jump. Adrien trailed his fingertips lightly upon the free skin before her sweater, causing her breath to hitch and stutter considerably. Their eyes were locked as he leaned closer, the movement artfully slow as though he was silently asking permission—wondering whether the movement was acceptable, or if she'd push him away and reject him.

And so, with an erratically beating heart and dry lips, Marinette gulped as their noses lightly pressing against each other and his lips curled into a genuine smile.

Their fingers intertwined as their cold lips connected. There wasn't an electric shock, nor choir bells ringing in her mind as novels described, but an erratically beating pulse within her mind and soft lips pressing against her own. It wasn't harsh, rough, or overwhelmed with passion that couldn't be extinguished; Adrien's movements were gentle, uncertain, and she returned the gesture tentatively. As they grew more confident in their actions, as a steadily building warmth was blossoming between their shared bodies, Adrien caressed the nape of her neck, fingers curling around her dark tresses of hair.

She squeezed his fingers in a gesture of approval, moving closer to lean upon his chest, free hand grasping upon the material of his shirt for support. He hummed underneath his breath, the noise in response to her gesture. A bubble of warmth erupted within her stomach, a chain reaction for her heart to beat faster, louder, pulse spiking and trailing from her head to her lower half tauntingly. Her movements were clumsy, almost nipping his lips accidentally and causing him to release a breathy laugh that did wonders for her re-located pulse.

His thumb traced soothing patterns into the flesh of her neck, and she tilted her head to allow more comfortable access while giving into the the sensations shooting through her, nerves whispering quietly in the back of her head that this was a moment she'd been waiting years for, and she hadn't initiated it at all.

His soft touches and persistent kisses stirred a breathy moan. Marinette took a sudden intake of breath, that surely wasn't too different to her uneven breathing, when the blond gently bit her lower lip, tongue soothing the swollen flesh moments after, a soft noise of approval escaped. He took the quiet noise for what it was, and before long her moans were muffled by their movements. Her grip upon his shirt became tighter, comforted by the gentle flicks of his tongue and the silent assurance that she wasn't as awful as she'd expected—the breathy moan that he uttered when she tentatively responded with her own proved that.

When their movements became slower, lazier in a way, and began to pull away while she was clutching onto him tightly, Marinette noted in that moment she hadn't seen him look any better before; the muted glow from the lamps, his swollen lips that were glistening slightly, combined with the curl of smile and the soft expression.

His fingertips trailed along her jaw once more, squeezing her hand in a comforting gesture, and placed a chaste kiss to her lips.

“You should go inside,” he said lowly.

She gulped. “I—okay.”

And with another squeeze of her hand, Marinette unlocked the door and trailed up to her tiny apartment in a daze. Sitting upon the bed, she stared at the mirror while gnawing her swollen lips, unsure of what that evening had meant—perhaps, it had meant more to her than to him. Time trickled by, and as she nervously clutched onto her duvet, staring firmly at his empty bedroom, a haunting thought floated across her mind.

What if he still didn't see her? Adrien had made it clear in the past that he wasn't interested in the legend, even if he had believed in it as a child.

But, maybe, because he had become... interested, if that was the right word, in her, then there was a chance that he would glance at her through the mirror when he was home. Surely, it wasn't a kiss that conveyed no meaning.

So, when she stilled as light emerged within the navy-coloured bedroom and her heart began to beat rapidly, all the hope that had been blossoming within her chest disappeared when Adrien fixed his hair with a small smile in the mirror.

The back of her throat burned, eyes stinging from the welling of crushed expectations leaking, and shaky breaths escaped as her vision became blurry.

Five years, seven months and nine days, and he still didn't want her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://xiueryn.tumblr.com/) ❤(ू•ᴗ•ू❁)


	2. 02

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this really did turn into a 30k story, and as much as I want to turn it into more chapters I won't. I'd be glad to accept one-shot prompts via here or on tumblr (xiueryn), if anyone's interested. Thank you for the kind support.
> 
> \- ̗̀art ̖́- [aoirin](http://aoirin.tumblr.com/post/174152044856), [ceejles](http://ceejles.tumblr.com/post/152831971798).

_Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Chat Noir © Thomas Astruc_

After the kiss, Marinette hadn't quite plucked up the courage to make it into work by the time her alarm was ringing the next morning. The moping around was pathetic, and she couldn't stand it after being awake for mere minutes. The dark-haired female firmly slapped her cheeks, gave her cliché words of comfort within the small bathroom mirror before making an important decision.

Breaking the full-length mirror forcefully, perhaps by punching or throwing anything hard at the glass, was out of the question. It seemed liked she'd be damaging a part of herself from how long it had been kept close to her—her parents had originally wanted it for their living room when she was packing up to travel to her own place, but she'd adamantly refused. Maybe, after enough time had passed where her heart wouldn't ache awfully by looking at the frame, she could gift it back to her parents for them to admire. It would take a while for that, though. In the meantime, Marinette covered the mirror with a thick fabric that was heavy enough to stay without having anything pinning it down.

With a determination, she'd strut into work with the intention to fully forget what had happened.

Adrien didn't mention the kiss, but that didn't mean that his actions hadn't changed. All those months ago, she'd told herself to give him up—to let herself be free, explore the options of affections that could be given, but that had backfired awfully by running into his café. And yet, as she brushed by the blond-haired male and delivered hot beverages to an enthusiastic couple, she couldn't find it in herself to regret it.

It had brought hurt, yes; but the warm feelings and just knowing him had outweighed the sadness that sometimes erupted and coursed through her. Wanting more wasn't going to cause anything productive to happen, so she stuffed those feelings tightly away, for a melancholic day where she could sniffle over her problems in the dark.

He had taken to looking at her more. Whereas she would sneak glances at him during their time together at work, it soon became clear that he was peering at her more often than not. Marinette had been bewildered the first time their gazes had locked across the room, so much so that she stumbled over a grumbling Bridgette (before she ran away into a box to hide for the rest of the day). There had instantly been heat upon her cheeks, and through the weeks the intensity wasn't diminishing as they stole peeks at each other.

Their conversations were much the same; friendly, teasing, and about the pesky cats surrounding them. While his never uttered the words that something had changed between them, his body language did. Adrien stood closer than before, within elbow distance so they could jostle each other while working on the food in the early mornings, and she'd stiffened considerably the first few times it had happened. He never spoke his apologies when they knocked into each other while decorating, either.

Perhaps he'd found her greatest weakness. When she'd apply too much pressure to a piping bag from their touching arms, and make a noise of surprise from the fault, the blond flashed her an apologetic smile that showed his sincere dimples instead—and that was the problem. Any words of teasing complaints that she would've normally uttered dissolved upon her tongue when such a soft expression was directed her way, and time wasn't lessening the impact.

During one of her drunken evenings with Alya, while sipping wine and watching a particularly gory horror film, she had confessed that she didn't know what was going on between her and Adrien. Rather than offering sound advice, the red-haired female had burst into laughter, and the giggles were soon an endless supply. There were tears coming from her eyes, cheeks red, and all her best friend could say was that she'd never thought the day would come where Marinette would seek advice—then she promptly told her that it wasn't her forté, and to simply go along with what felt right.

So, when she arrived at work the next morning with cheeks tinged pink from the brisk morning air, Marinette had given herself a quiet talk filled with encouraging words that surely made the individuals she passed upon the street cast her inquisitive looks. The spotted umbrella was stashed in a handy plastic bin just past the front door after she'd unlocked it, keys sounding loudly among the noises from the morning birds. The door to the kitchen was open, the gaudy beads that used to cover it gone from Lila deciding to play with them far too enthusiastically (they had fallen upon her, and she somehow managed to get away unharmed). A breeze of sweet smelling air wafted through the café as she padded through, aware of the squelching noise her wet noises were making.

There was a shelf she used to keep spare clothes and shoes within the storage room. She'd have to make a detour after applying the finishing touches to their products.

Adrien was working intently at cutting different fruits in intricate shapes to use as decorations. His golden eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, eyes downcast solely on the food, and the attire was one she was very familiar with; the baggy white t-shirt that suffocated him, a wrong order from an online store that he insisted on keeping, along with drawstring pyjama bottoms that were a deep shade of black with white paw prints upon the legs. On the days where he hadn't slept well, or felt under the weather, he did the morning baking in his pyjamas, no matter how many times she scolded him.

Leaning against the nearest counter, Marinette asked softly, “What kept you up last night?”

The timing was perfect. If she had been ten seconds earlier, the jump of surprise he had done would've caused the knife to slice into his finger; instead, it clattered to the countertop as he swivelled his head in her duration and narrow his bloodshot eyes.

“Good morning to you, too.” Adrien huffed.

“You look terrible,” she pointed out, hands supporting her weight on the countertop. “Why don't you try and sleep for a few hours, while I handle things down here?”

As always, he rejected the offer. He was stubborn when he wanted to be—which meant, if she was trying to swindle him out of work. The condition for her taking over various jobs for him to simply sleep in was to pay her extra, and that felt unfair as it was. The finances were not part of her job. She assumed he was doing well because of the constant customers, and hopefully wasn't spending too much attempting to maintain the café, but there was the fact that he was so young—they were both—and trying to do it alone, as he had never mentioned support from any family. His father, maybe siblings, were sure to be overseas, still, while he was living alone in another land in a busy city.

“No can do, Marinette,” he murmured, wiping his hands. “Those two terrors up there were playing until three o'clock. I think I'm going to go insane soon.”

That made sense, then. Marinette stifled her laughter at his disgruntled expression, and answered that she completely understood. Tikki had immediately bonded with the black-haired feline that lived in the apartment upstairs, and she hadn't made her way down into the shop yet. It was unclear whether Adrien wanted to keep her tucked away until she was bigger—and had her shots from the veterinarian—or if he wasn't ready to separate the two just yet. Plagg hadn't been a big fan of the other cats that lived within the café, but it seemed that having a small kitten that would avidly attempt to copy his movements and search for comfort within his fur had caused him to be a unwilling brother figure. He hadn't ventured downstairs since her arrival, and the kitten's playfulness combined with how often Plagg was mischievous was altering Adrien's free time and sleeping schedule.

She grinned. “Were you ever sane?”

His lips twitched from trying not to laugh. Adrien crept closer, an exaggerated offended expression upon his face. After reaching for the decorating that was riddled with icing and other such stains, he made a circling motion with his index finger with the intention for her to turn around. Putting up no fight, she allowed him to tie the apron from behind.

“You love me as I am,” he pointed out candidly, “even if you think I'm insane.”

The burn upon her cheeks made an expected appearance. He had no idea, truly, how she felt. A soft bittersweet smile tugged upon her lips as she replied, “If I say yes, your ego will cause you to inflate.”

“Oh, what a terrible employee I've hired,” Adrien remarked, voice dramatic and breathy. “How many warnings shall I have to give you before you realise I'm perfect?”

She snorted at his behaviour. “I'll pinch you.”

As they faced each other, he placed a hand on the baggy t-shirt, over the area of his heart with a deep frown. “You wound me, Marinette.”

“This loyal employee will get to work now, sir,” the dark-haired female responded, shaking her head at his suddenly chirpy mood.

Working through the different decorations that needed to be done, Marinette focused on being productive than mulling over his sleepy gaze at her. After a few minutes of the silence only filled with clatters of utensils, Adrien released an audible yawn and stretched his arms above his head, eyes closed and brows furrowed from the movement. The dark-haired female peeked up from her work, taking in that the absurdly large t-shirt didn't rise far enough to show his stomach as his others shirts did (somewhere along the line, she'd decided that admiring his body wasn't something to feel guilty over). Her face displayed her curiosity when she looked up to meet his watery bright eyes, deciding to shrug and grin at being caught staring rather than making a scene about it.

Adrien laughed and announced that he was disappearing to get dressed. She could hear his footsteps up the creaky staircase as he walked.

Sleepy Adrien had managed to walk into their front door, break a mug full of a hot beverage, and fall over a customer in the span of two hours. He had apologised profusely to the customers, saying he'd pay for their visit as his gesture of being sorry, and when he reached the till and tripped over the ever-wandering Bridgette, Marinette had decided it was enough.

He blinked, bewildered, when she demanded that he take a nap upstairs while she looked over the shops. When it became clear that he wasn't going to agree, Marinette hooked her hands around the material of his half-apron, tugging him forward by the material and started towards the direction of the stairs. He made half-hearted noises of protest, and she ignored every one of them with a firm shake of her head.

“Fine,” the blond said, sighing. “If I'm not down in an hour, you're going to march up here and wake me up, okay?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, sir.”

The day continued until closing time. She ignored his begrudging request to wake him up, and it seemed liked a thoroughly good idea by the amount of time his nap had elapsed. There had been questions from the customers, enquiries from the students that trailed in after their day of education, wondering where the blond-haired owner had wandered off to. Although she was the only employee at the café, the majority of the eyes that came through the front door were there for Adrien. The café had been successfully mentioned within magazines and blogs on the Internet, and they were thriving despite the rainy weather. Sopping wet customers came in, flashed her a smile and settled down in the heated room, admiring the energetic felines that were all too happy to play with whoever gave them attention.

Armed with a mop, Marinette cleaned the floors after the doors had closed and the sign had flipped to display that they were done for that day. The calming music that was playing through the speakers was soothing to listen to, and she found herself humming along to the rhythm and moving her arms in time. The impromptu dance was incredulously silly, sure to be embarrassing if anyone looked within the windows to witness it, and the various cats either watched her move around strangely or flinched from the suddenly actions and hid away behind different objects. She laughed at their reactions, particularly when Félix's tail began to swish in much the same rhythm as the music unintentionally.

“Don't stop on my account,” a soft voice drawled behind her, “I was enjoying that.”

Marinette snorted, leaning upon the top of the mop. “I'll have you know that I took ballet classes.”

“Oh, it certainly showed,” Adrien replied, a hand rubbing his face languidly as he yawned and stretched his arms once again. The overly large pyjamas were back on, making him appear younger than he really was. “Your audience wasn't too fond of your moves, though.”

She grinned. “Tough crowd.”

“I bet.” His expression was still tinged with sleepiness (eyes drooping, indents upon his face from where the pillow had been), and while she put the cleaning supplies back once more, Adrien murmured, “Couldn't you wake me with a kiss? I've heard that's all the rage for waking someone up in films.”

At the mention of a certain activity, her eyes snapped towards him to try and decipher his expression—Adrien was busy scanning the different felines, peering behind objects to get to them and making a quiet whistling to catch their attention, to make sure they were all present for the evening.

Humour was the best reply she could think of. “That only happens to princesses, Adrien.”

“That's rude,” he replied, stumbling for a moment before regaining his balance against the wall. Lila had darted past, her brown-coloured fur becoming a blur as she hit behind the display case for their products. “I think princes would want to be kissed sometimes, too.”

“In their sleep?” the dark-haired female questioned, raising her eyebrows as he looked at her briefly to show an unimpressed expression. “Even if it's a kiss of true love, I wouldn't want to be kissed by a stranger. I think it would be terrifying to wake up to, actually.” And the words she spoke were the truth—if it was Adrien, however, then it was a different story.

“I can think of worse things to wake up to,” he quipped, lifting cushions into the air to make sure felines weren't burrowed beneath them. “And if we're on the subject of seeing strangers, then I think the mirror legend would be awfully freaky to suddenly see.”

They hadn't spoken about the topic since that brief mention many months ago. Marinette smoothed the wrinkles from her shirt, choosing to stare at the crinkled material instead of risking meeting his eyes—the brief flash of hurt across her expression would've been easily identifiable. They'd kissed before, yes, but nothing more had come from it; or, rather, they simply kept stealing glances of each other without pursuing any further. Gnawing on her lower lip, she wandered closer to the searching male, feet stopping just beside him.

“And why is that?” she asked, voice soft, barely audible.

The cushion in his hands fell to the floor loudly, echoing within the room. Bridgette made a noise of complaint from the sudden action. Adrien stretched his arms out in front of him, causing the baggy t-shirt to crease with his movements, and titled his head as he met her cerulean eyes. “Why wouldn't it be?” he replied rhetorically, not searching for an answer. “I can't imagine how it happens, but having someone's face suddenly appear in my mirror would probably cause me to scream.”

“I don't think it's quite how some of the stories depict it,” Marinette pointed out, the half-smile across her lips self-deprecating. “How would a floating head appear? I don't think that's it _at all_.”

He didn't answer for a few moments. Instead, Adrien regarded her with a guarded expression before finally raising his eyebrows and saying, “And what do you think it would be like?”

“We've spoken about this before.”

The answer didn't sway him from pursuing her opinion. “Will you tell me again?” the blond requested, voice a mere whisper. “I think I'd like to hear it again.”

There was no doubt that he wouldn't laugh at her opinion since he hadn't the first time around. Marinette furrowed her eyebrows, gazing at his sincere expression in a new light and wondering just _why_ he was questioning her about it, once again. Their previous discussion had been cut off by him saying that he didn't believe it, that he never would, and that individuals needed to believe in themselves, rather than seeking a partner that would never appear within their mirrors. She had expressed her thoughts that it would only work with a full-length mirror, and he'd expressed how lonely and one-sided her opinion was. It wasn't just a theory to her, though—she'd lived through it for over five years, and the object of her affection and inner-turmoil was standing before her, tentatively asking to hear the tale once more.

“No,” she whispered, voice cracking. Marinette resisted the urge to avert her eyes, and continued to glance at his suddenly concerned expression. “It's as you said before—we're our own soulmates.”

Whatever answer he had been searching for, the one she had supplied was sufficient enough. Adrien's face visibly brightened; lips curling into a sincere grin, meeting his eyes and showing the slight dimples of his cheeks, and she found herself smiling softly right back from how positive he was. Even clad in oversized pyjamas, he was a beacon of happiness when he wanted to be.

Despite how distracted she'd been by his expression, Marinette didn't jump when she felt a soft touch on her hand. Tentatively, as if testing the waters and seeing whether she'd pull away and distance herself from him, Adrien ran his fingertips across the her cold flesh, the warmth very much welcomed along with his action. As he linked his fingers through hers gently, allowing her to feel the barely there callouses upon the top of his palms, the heat that appeared upon her cheeks were reflected back in his, too. It was a sweet movement, and the reason for his sudden happiness became apparent.

Adrien didn't believe in soulmates—that was why he hadn't seen her within the mirror when she'd expected him to. He had never asked, never wondered about it while wandering around his room, so he had no reason to believe that it would actually exist (much less that Marinette would've been experiencing it for years). Perhaps, he had been waiting for the right moment to question her about her beliefs; waiting, smiling from a distance, to avoid setting himself up for failure if she rejected him in the end. He wasn't the type to string her along, making her believe his affections were more than simply friends, and she'd been too blinded to look at the larger picture. The covered mirror within her room proved that much, too. Her plan hadn't been to seduce him blindly when they'd met; rather, she had been determined to wait until he recognised her for what she was. Wanting for him to approach _her_ , instead of plucking the courage to act first.

Squeezing his hand, Marinette's smile reached her eyes.

Their moment—if it could have been classed as one—was ruined when there was a sudden movement behind her. Adrien had been visibly taken aback, hand freezing within hers, and his viridian eyes had widened considerably before he tugged her along to their front door by their joined hands. There had been a flash of black on the other side of the glass, a blur in the distance by the time she had located it, and soon after a burnt umber-coloured cat tumbled after it with much the same speed (clumsily, though). Marinette gasped as she recognised the figures, realising that Plagg and Tikki had managed to make it _outside_ the one time that he'd finally relinquished control of the café over to her.

Tikki hadn't had the microchip placed in her yet, nor did she have any form of identification. If they couldn't find the clumsy kitten, the most they had was ridiculous photographs of her with Plagg, or upon Marinette's or Adrien's lap.

The tug on her hand caught her attention once more. She barely had time to grab her umbrella from the plastic bin before they were through the front door, scanning the damp street for any indication of where they had wandered off to.

“I'll go left,” Adrien announced, locking the door behind them. “Call me if you find them at all, okay? Nino's out of town so I can't call him for help.” Alya was with him, so the amount of willing friends that would search through the rain for cats had dwindled drastically.

The amount of breakouts had been at an all time low after Fang's escape the previous month. The long-haired feline had managed to find empty boxes in an alley nearby, and chosen to sleep within them until Marinette had been able to find him. They should've had a barrier, somehow, within the café to stop them from freely trotting through the front door, but it would've been gaudy and in the way. The system of shutting the door immediately after someone had used it was the best that they had, and Adrien insisted on doing a furry headcount each evening, just to make sure.

Her grip on her umbrella tightened as she looked through the third alley. There had been no sighting of the cats thus far. The rain had been light and spitting when they'd exited, an ominous atmosphere for their search mission, and by that point in time the raindrops were pelting down and sounding loudly against the material of her umbrella. Marinette ran her hand through her bangs, sighing. Where would a cat disappear to in the rain? There had been no communication with Adrien, so she assumed that he was in much the same predicament as her. Shivering, she plodded through the falling water to peer down the next alley, checking beneath the various cars, in the bins, and in any spare boxes that were still there (despite being soaking wet). By the time that night had fallen, she was making noises of frustration with shoes thoroughly wet and socks squelching uncomfortably as she moved, and the cold air wasn't helping the situation too much. Having narrowly avoided being splashed by passing vehicles, Marinette stuck as far away from the roads as possible.

A blur of gold and monotone-coloured clothing caught her attention down the street. She blinked, clutching the umbrella tighter, and started towards him. He was peering behind every object, a worried expression upon his face. The clothes he was wearing were thoroughly soaked, sticking to him like a creased second skin, and rain was trickling from his hair, obstructing his vision every few moments from the amount he was blinking. She trotted over quietly—as quiet as one could be in the deafening, pouring rain—and held the spotted umbrella above him, though the height difference made it so she was pointing to the pouring sky.

With droplets of water falling from his chin, golden-coloured hair plastered to his face and messily pushed aside from his shaking hands, even then he caused a spiral of warmth to become apparent within her. It wasn't the time to feel the warm affection for him; they were searching for two drenched cats that had disappeared into the distance, but as she looked down and saw his sock-clad feet upon the pavement, she sighed.

He was too caring. Adrien had been too worried about the felines that had disappeared and hadn't stalled to put on any shoes, or grab an umbrella from inside first. He was solely focused on his impromptu mission, and his disregard for anything else was quite endearing.

“You're going to catch a cold,” she murmured.

Shaking his head, Adrien replied, “I'd rather that than not find them again.” Only Plagg had a microchip in him—Tikki was undersized and the veterinarian had advised to wait a few more months until she could have hers, too. “I'm guessing you didn't find them.”

“No.” Her voice was soft, and shivers coursed through her body afterwards from the cold weather. “Have you seen them at all?”

Standing upright, the blond stretched his arms in front of him, droplets falling from his clothing from the movement. “Not a glimpse,” he grouched, pushing the rest of the wet strands away from his face. “I...” He cleared his throat. “We should split up again.”

She shook her head in denial. “No, they're probably hiding somewhere from the rain. It wasn't pouring when they left.” Even though she wasn't actually sure when they had, just that they'd caught a glimpse of the duo escaping into the distance after Adrien had trotted downstairs. “We'll call them when it's calmed down, okay?”

When he'd been about to open his mouth to answer, Marinette latched her hand onto his cold wrist, tugging him along and not taking no for answer. He had never been awfully sick since the time she'd been working there (only a few sniffles here and there, and sometimes a cough that never developed any further). She wasn't risking having him catch a terrible cold from his foolhardy rescue attempt. She swiftly unlocked the door, umbrella messily falling into the assigned plastic bin, before she ran through the café in search of the first piece of fabric that could act as a towel. He was dragged along with her movements, damp soaks creating squeaking noise across the wood flooring, and didn't utter a word as she whirled around with a towel in hand (which was usually used to clear up spilled beverages).

She dried his hair first, running the material over his golden tresses enthusiastically, attempting to rid him of the droplets that were falling down to the floor at a steady pace. Although he made no move to help her as she dried him, rubbing the towel along the nape of his neck to catch the running water, he wasn't making any protests either. When she looked up from her ministrations and saw the soft smile across his lips, she promptly threw the towel into his face.

Despite the sudden surprise, Adrien laughed and caught the material before it could hit him. His reflexes were good when they're weren't needed—it would've been much better if he would've stopped ruining their supplies with his sleepiness. He took over the job of drying, patting the towel across his drenched clothing and not making much progress. With a roll of her eyes, Marinette captured another towel and cleaned the floor. Adrien had disappeared upstairs for a change of clothing when she was done, leaving wet footprints to track him, so she settled herself upon the floor and removed her damp shoes and socks, cursing the weather under her breath.

“You're cute,” Adrien remarked, announcing his presence with a compliment.

With a wet sock pinched between her thumb and index finger, Marinette raised her eyebrows at him. “What do you want now?”

“To thank you, again,” he announced, barely there dimples showing as he flashed a sincere smile. “I would've still been out there if it wasn't for you.”

Marinette stood up, grumbling under her breath, “If it wasn't for me, they wouldn't have gotten out.”

“It was bound to happen sometime soon,” he pointed out, no irritation leaking into his voice. “It's just unfortunate, but they'll be back. I doubt anyone else would let Plagg sleep in their hair.” From what she could remember, he never explicitly allowed him (he had a bed intended for the feline beside his own, just to attempt to coax him away from his locks). Rolling her eyes, Marinette shoved her wet belongings beside the plastic bin for umbrellas, shivering, still. Catching the shudder that soared through her, Adrien pointed to the ceiling and asked, “Do you want to have some coffee upstairs? I'm sure it'll warm you up.”

Well, she couldn't say no. Although she had ventured to his apartment more than a few times since the first, it had never been late in the evening again. Marinette had left as the blond began to make dinner each time, opting out of dining with him when it was offered, and merely went up there to visit the mysterious felines that much preferred the second-story of the building. But that was before she'd had the revelation that she was an utter fool, so, with new resolve, the dark-haired female ascended the stairs with the intention to stay into the late hours of the evening if it was offered. The cardboard box Plagg liked to sleep in was still within the living room, and a lamp had been left on from earlier. Adrien waltzed through to the kitchen, asking how she'd like her beverage while searching through his cupboards for appropriate mugs. Nino's bright idea for a present was the one he usually used, simply because it had a cartoon cat painted upon it with explicit text below that had made him laugh.

She could see the rain from the window, still. The glass was splattered with water, obscuring the view, and making her shiver just from staring at the panes. Rubbing her elbows for warmth, Marinette graciously accepted mug, not commenting on the fact that it had _another_ cat upon it. All the mugs that she had seen from his apartment were somehow related to that, and as endearing as it was, she honestly thought that the obsession was beginning to get out of hand (well, before the cat café it would've been seen as worse).

“So, small talk,” Adrien began, perched on the couch beside her.

She snorted. The new attire looked a lot warmer for him; the dark-coloured t-shirt, jeans that did wonders for his legs and had been in his wardrobe for a few years, and the flannel chequered shirt that had been left open, unbuttoned. He grinned at response, attempting to sip from his obscene mug and pulling a face soon after from burning his tongue from the idiotic action.

“I'm confiscating this,” Marinette announced, stealing the mug from his cold hands and placing it upon the coffee table. “You're probably going to have a cold after this, so if you have a burnt tongue, too, I'll never hear the end of it.”

He had the gall to look offended.

Biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, she retorted, “You _know_ it's true.”

“Goodness, woman,” Adrien said, sounding positively breathless as he raised his eyebrows. “I feel like I've acquired a mother instead of an employee.”

“Fire me, then,” she grouched, setting her mug down, too. Crossing her arms beneath her bosom, Marinette made a noise of disapproval. “And are you complaining, Mister Agreste?”

He winced, holding his dry hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Not that it's a bad thing,” the blond back-pedalled, restrained laughter clear from his shaking voice, “I think it's quite cute, actually.”

She narrowed her eyes playfully. “And that's the second time you've called me cute today—so, what do you want?”

“I said it's cute, not that _you're_ cute.”

Lips curling into a frown, she replied, “Way to kill a girl's ego.”

Adrien grinned, showing his dimples as he responded, “It's in all the dating advice books for men—knock them down so you're the only option. Truly inspiring text, so I thought I'd attempt it once on you.”

“Try again and I'll hit you for real,” she retorted. “And I really can't tell if that was a lie or not.”

He released a laugh that caused bumps to erupt upon her skin, a shiver running its course through her body. “I doubt it. The only dating advice I've seen is from comics and television shows, so they're not very reliable. If they were, you should've fallen for me by now.”

Blinking, she replied in a soft tone, “And how do you know I haven't?” Pleading internally for her insecurities not to show on her face; wanting the self-consciousness to be smothered by her mildly embarrassed expression, yet she found herself shifting upon the sofa in a nervous movement. “I don't believe you've ever asked me.”

Surprise flickered across his face, showing from the widening of his bright eyes framed by the thick eyelashes that were sometimes the talk of the café, and he spoke in such a tone that caused the bumps to erupt once again. “Well, this is a catastrophe, then.”

The reaction she'd expected certainly hadn't been that. Releasing a sigh that was filled with fondness, Marinette ran a hand through her stray hairs, tucking them behind her ear. “That's probably the least enthusiastic cat pun you've ever uttered.”

“I never claimed it was a pun,” the blond retorted, narrowing his eyes playfully as his slid closer to her. Their fabric-clad thighs were brushing against each other lightly, and she leaned into his slight touch. “You're seeing things that aren't there, Marinette.” The way he said her name was soft, a caress upon his tongue that was surely too sinful to be heard often.

She shivered.

“I think I've been around you for too long.”

His lisp curled into a wolfish grin. “I disagree—I would've been much happier if you were in my life earlier.”

So would she if he had appeared over five years earlier, back when she was the young girl that was astounded that there really was someone within the mirror. The studious girl that had long hair, grades that reflected her happiness rather than anything else, and the one that had been solely driven by ambition. Despite the hurt from watching him through the years, she swallowed, ignoring the pang of pain and loneliness that resonated within her. The male before her with his golden-tinged eyelashes, and dimples that were showing from his sincerity combined with the lack of distance between them, caused her heart to flutter and pulse to become deafening from simply one sweet gesture.

“Oh?” she whispered, voice higher-pitched than before from shyness. “Looking at my pictures wasn't good enough for you?”

To her amusement, pink flooded the tops of his cheekbones, emphasising the brightness of his emerald eyes as he held his stare. His expression hadn't faltered, though; still the same mixture of sincerity and teasing. “They can't replace you,” Adrien replied smoothly, raising his eyebrows. His hair was fluffier than usual from the towel, sticking up in various directions and looking unkempt (worse than when he woke up after a night with Plagg). “I don't think anything could, actually.”

It was her turn to flush from that. She held her stare, refusing to look away and squirm from the compliments. “Okay, boss,” Marinette started, leaning closer to bump her shoulder into his. “First the cute compliments, and now this—what do you want?”

His expression didn't falter. A hand, that was warmed from the inside of the apartment, was placed gently upon her fabric-clad thigh. Ignoring the movement, not looking down to confirm that it had happened, she didn't recoil in surprise from how close they were. Tilting her head up, eyes widened in surprise from the intention for their distance, she wetted her lips and allowed her eyes to flutter closed as his breath ghosted against her lips.

“A date with you,” he murmured, a breath away from her.

Eyes snapping open, Marinette asked incredulously, “ _What_?”

“Will you go on a date with me?” Adrien clarified—voice shaking from restrained laughter from her sheer surprise—while raising his eyebrows.

A noise escaped that was a mix of a sigh and sheer disbelief.

He did laugh at that. It was a breathy chuckle that caressed her lips that were hovering close to his. “Your silence wounds me, Marinette.”

And there it was again—the soft whisper of her name that did wonders for her libido. Narrowing her eyes, Marinette glared at him for a good few moments before reaching forward, curling her hand into the material of his t-shirt while the other rested against his shoulder, and edged closer, connecting their lips and allowing the warmth to spread between them. The vibrations from his end were from the muffled laughter, shaking his frame and causing her to press harder, _insistent_ she was pursuing this for a reason, and that he damn well needed to react correctly. And, thankfully, he did. The hand upon her thigh remained, a comforting presence, as the other curled into the hairs upon the nape of her neck, cradling her head into a reassuring position.

His responses were feather-light and tentative at first, as if asking whether she was absolutely sure with her decision, and in return Marinette moved her lips clumsily, almost catching his swollen lips and nipping him at times, as the erratic rhythm of her pulse deafened her. The warmth coiling within her lower regions continued to boil as their movements became for confident, leaning into each other for support as the sounds were their quick and panted breaths between kisses. His fingertips upon her neck caressed her skin and tresses of dark hair in a steady rhythm, that was quite admirable considering where his attention was directed—a moan was coaxed from her throat, muffled by his lips and swallowed whole as his tongue trailed languidly over her lower lip with clear intention.

Parting her swollen lips in response, a shiver ran through her body when his tentative movements were deeper, the gentle flicks of his tongue reminding her that it wasn't a daydream that she'd concocted. Greedily accepting the offered pleasure, a moan escaped and was muffled by their hushed breaths, blending into the steady noise they were making. The grip on his shirt grew tighter, her pulse becoming pronounce lower, and she shifted her lips, reluctantly searching for friction that wasn't there.

Their breathing was uneven as they pulled away. Her eyes fluttered upon to view his flushed face, the tips of his ears—peeking out from the golden strands of hair—were stained rose, and the curve of his smile was sinful paired along with the swollen lips that were plush, reddened, and calling all attention to them.

Fingers brushing her neck gently, teasingly, Adrien leaned forward once more to place a chaste kiss on her lips that would've been innocent in any other situation, before raising his eyebrows at her. “What do you say, Marinette?” His voice was husky and breathy, causing her erratic beat of her pulse to react in turn.

She gulped.

“I—” There wasn't any sounds other than her panted breaths any longer. “I think the rain has stopped.”

The fingertips upon her skin stilled. The blond glanced to the window, confirming that there wasn't any more raindrops trailing across the surface, before turning back to her with a determined expression.

“I'll be right back,” Adrien said, kissing her lips softly once more before disappearing from the apartment.

She licked her lips, recalling the conversation during the time he was missing, making sure not to misunderstand any of the uttered words. When he returned with two perfectly dry felines in his arms and a disgruntled expression, she'd laughed heartily (especially when they leapt from his arms and ran straight for her).

-x-

Their first date had to be postponed, solely because he insisted that she needed to be treated right, and being tired from a day of work wasn't what he was looking for. So, with chaste kisses in the early morning hours and after work before she disappeared home, Marinette powered through the days filled with the stolen looks in his direction while waiting for him patiently. For weeks in a row he had attempted to close the café for a day on the weekend, but had to cancel his plans when news of popular critics or bloggers were going to visit on that day. So, when he'd finally thrown his hands in the air and announced fate was against them, that was when he gave in to her requests of a simple evening together after customers had gone and the front door was locked.

At first he'd attempted to lock the two felines that lived within his apartment within his bedroom, but that hadn't turned out well (the constant high-pitched noises that came from the other side of the door was proof of that). And when he tried to make them disappear down the stairs, it had ended up with them running away from him and hiding behind various objects. Marinette had laughed heartily for a good half an hour at his attempts, even adding cheering commentary which caused him to narrow his eyes in her direction briefly.

With Tikki on her lap and an empty plate in front of her—as Adrien's table had fallen apart, therefore he hadn't bothered to get it replaced, nor were there chairs to perch upon apart from the sofa in the living room—Marinette smiled as she watched the two beside her interact. Adrien was holding his plate high out of Plagg's reach, while the dark-haired feline was attempting to climb onto his shoulder to reach the food, while making soft pleading noises.

Adrien was far too kind, and to know that the kindness was directed to her because he felt some sort of affection caused her heart to swell and cheeks to grow hot. It was the most flattering compliment that had ever been for her, albeit silent.

He tidied the dishes away for a later time, settling down to sit beside her and their partially unwanted companions. Petting the pest upon his lap and rolling his eyes at the tell-tale purr that sounded, Adrien shrugged his shoulders when they made eye contact, gesture clearly conveying that he'd given up on trying to be alone.

She grinned. “I expected this, by the way.”

“...If I said you're using me for the cats, would you hit me?”

“Most definitely.” She sniffed indignantly. “Besides, why wouldn't I? They don't stalk me, unlike you. They're lovely companions because of that.”

The jab caused him to still, fingers no longer brushing against Plagg's fur, and jut his lower lip out dramatically. “I told you it wasn't like that.”

“Actually,” Marinette started, raising her eyebrows with confidence, “you never really explained yourself much—just because you've seen pictures of me doesn't make it a good decision to not look for different employees.”

“What more could I say?” Adrien shrugged, glancing down at the feline to avoid her gaze. “When your crush asks to work for you, you kind of just go along with it without asking a lot of questions.”

She blinked. And blinked again, absolutely positive that her surprise was showing clearly on her expression. Her mouth opened to reply, but she snapped it closed after a few moments as her cheeks coloured considerably from his words. Although he was adamantly looking at Plagg, she could see the light dusting of rose across his cheekbones—surely the tips of his ears, if they were visible, too—and she felt _glee_ from seeing how embarrassed he was from admitting such a naïve feeling of affection. She was in much the same predicament, wasn't she? To have not heard his voice, only seen his face and activities, without knowing his personality for herself, and yet still felt adoration for him.

Without prompting him for more information, Adrien blurted, “I'm not with you for your looks, really!”

That should've been something she said. She snorted, covering her mouth to muffle the building laughter from his panicked expression. He shot a sheepish look in her direction before glancing down at the dark-coloured feline, once again.

“I'll try and explain myself, so please refrain from hitting me or running away. I'd really appreciate it.” Marinette nodded, gesturing with a free hand for him to continue in a supportive gesture. “You know I used to live abroad, right? I'm sure I've mentioned it before without talking too much about my family.” All she knew about them was that his mother was dead, from hints within their conversations and the peeping she'd done throughout the years. And yet, she had never seen a picture of either of them within his room, neither in the apartment. “My... father's very big in the fashion industry abroad, so I modelled since I was a child.”

Suddenly holding both her hands up in a gesture to stop, Marinette stared at him incredulously, not at all feeling guilty as he shifted self-consciously. “Wait a bloody moment—are you trying to tell me you _were_ a model? _You_?”

“I don't know whether to be offended by that or not,” he quipped.

He had the looks for the job, certainly, but perhaps not the personality; Adrien was a full of energy, bouncing around the café like a happy child whenever customers were near, and imagining him walking straight-faced down a runway or attempting to hold a certain pose without cracking a bad joke or smiling at one of the crew members had her furrowing her eyebrows. It was possible, yes, but she much preferred the unrestrained version that was sitting before her.

“Why did you stop, then?” she asked softly.

Running a hand through his loose hair, he said simply, “I didn't enjoy it. My father thought I was the perfect fit for it, so I did it. I guess I wanted to please him, but that changed over the years—some fans were obsessive, actually, and it was quite overwhelming at times.”

“Okay,” she agreed, nodding her head, admitting that the story was making sense so far, “but that doesn't explain how that relates to you having a crush on me.”

Playfully knocking her shoulder with his, Adrien reprimanded, “If you'd wait a few minutes, you'd find out, you impatient girl.”

She laughed.

“As I _was_ saying,” the blond started after clearing his throat, “I never quite understood how fans could say they were infatuated with me after only looking at pictures. So, when it happened to me, it was a bit weird.”

Well, he was rather easy on the eyes. It was understandable that impressionable teenage girls would place their affections upon his attractive face—if the photographs were anything like the face she saw on a daily basis, then he would've been successful. It explained the expensive clothing that was usually stripped and thrown off as quickly as possible when they were younger, along with the few pieces that had stayed within his wardrobe. He certainly had a sense of style—there were no t-shirts with strange cats upon them, thankfully—and it had probably been instilled into him from his early years. Marinette raised her eyebrows, prompting him to continue despite her warmed cheeks at the confession.

“Right, well,” he said, a hand snaking up to touch his neck self-consciously (the gesture was so endearing, and she bit her lower lip at it). “You were really pretty, I—not that you aren't _now_. You're even bet—I, _fuck_. T-this isn't going out right at all.”

The laughter couldn't be restrained any more. Marinette let out hearty chortles, feeling the vibrations through her body and causing Tikki to jump off her lap and run away, and kept laughing until her face was red from that, not from her blush any longer. With Adrien soon joining in, meaning Plagg went off into the distance with Tikki, too, she wondered whether he'd noticed that her guffaws had become slightly maniacal. Wiping at her wet eyes, Marinette met his gaze and grinned, relieved that he was smiling right back.

“You have a way with words,” she teased.

Shrugging his shoulders, Adrien replied softly, “I'm trying to say that I had a crush on you, yes, but if I only liked you for your looks, I would've asked you on a date when we first met, right?”

A smirk curled at the corners of her lips. “Is that you awkwardly confessing your love for me?”

“Pretty much,” he agreed shakily. “I haven't really done this before.”

Well, neither had she. Marinette grinned at his confession, happiness reflected within her wide eyes and the smile that reached them, and reached down tentatively to take his hand in hers. She linked their fingers together, revelling in the warmth of his flesh and the softness of his skin, and squeezed in a comforting gesture. What was she to say, though? The mirror legend was an utter myth, and she had yet to read—or see—any evidence that anyone else had experienced it with confirmation other than herself. Admitting to seeing him within her mirror would've been admitting to viewing hallucinations, or simply being delusional, so she opted to keep it quiet.

“I don't know what to say,” she said, a teasing quality to her voice, “I've heard it's bad etiquette to confess your love on the first date. My, you need some lessons, Adrien.”

Childishly, he stuck his tongue out briefly.

“I think I might just love you, too,” Marinette continued, grinning widely. “Perhaps I need lessons as well.”

The kiss to quieten her teasing wasn't chaste.

-x-

It was five years, eight months, and twenty-one days when Adrien asked her to be his girlfriend—ten days since he'd confessed his love in the most awkward way, and one month and eleven days since their first kiss. She'd laughed, positively delighted, and asked what had taken him so long to muster the courage to simply ask the question. In return, she found out through the blond that Nino was planning to propose to Alya, therefore he would need a date to their engagement party (naturally, the red-head wouldn't say no as they were sappy when they were together). And he was proven right when Alya had called her up later that evening and straight up announced that she was getting married, not bothering to go through the details of how it had happened.

Adrien had picked her up from her apartment, marvelled over her elegant dress, especially when she announced that she'd made it herself, and whispered sweet words in the back of the taxi while placing teasing kisses along her exposed neckline. She had pushed him away laughing, claiming that such behaviour could be fully explored when they were alone _after_ the party.

The party had various guests that Marinette had never fully bonded with, and it was utterly adorable to see how many recognised Adrien from the café, never quite realising that he was best friends with Nino. There were enthusiastic introductions all around, and when the four of them were the only ones remaining while sipping cheap wine from their glasses, Marinette had choked when Alya informed them that she and Nino were already married. It turned out that when he had proposed, they'd registered their marriage after agreeing that a large wedding wasn't within their desires. They hadn't informed their parents yet—or anyone apart from her and Adrien, who was gaping with surprise written across his face—so, they asked the two of them to keep it quiet for the time being.

When they were alone, Marinette spent her first night in his bed. It wasn't the passion-filled affair that she'd imagined from the added feline company, and the heavy petting certainly wasn't on each other's bodies. There were creases from the pillows upon his cheeks when they woke up, and two cats firmly in between them on the mattress, making it so there hadn't been any sort of cuddling during the night. It was as though the duo wanted all of the affection directed at them, and as endearing as it would've been in any other situation, Marinette shook her head in frustration.

“You should stay at mine next time,” she said.

And he did. Her tiny apartment was a short walk away, so after they'd closed up the café, Adrien had walked through the streets while holding her hand with a goofy smile. Although her apartment was smaller than his, only by a small margin, and filled with various fabrics that were stuffed within any drawer within sight, he adored it all the same. Adrien had remarked that their nights were wonderful when they weren't disturbed by the dastardly duo of cats, and she'd heartily agreed. He never questioned the fabric-covered mirror in her bedroom, nor did he attempt to remove the cloth at any point. Perhaps he was being kind and not mentioning from their talks on the legend before.

She didn't need the mirror to see him in the late hours of the evenings any longer. Although they agreed to have a few nights apart so they weren't attached any more than they already were, they exchanged cell phone messages and sometimes calls, too, when they were apart.

Their exploration of each other hadn't been fully completed as they were taking their sweet time when they were alone at Marinette's apartment two nights a week, but that was completely fine with her. Whenever they pushed further, the sheer happiness within Adrien's expression and the grin afterwards was more than worth it. She felt absolutely treasured, especially when he blinked in awe every time her shirt fell to the ground.

She thought she couldn't have been happier with their relationship.

Then, after being woken up from a pleasant dream to the sound of her cell phone ringing, she answered with a sleepy, “Adrien?”

“I— _hi_.”

She blinked. Rubbing her eyes, she noted that he sounded awake, alarmingly so. Pulling her cell phone back and staring at the illuminated screen to stare at the night, she saw that it was well past midnight. He should've been asleep as the day started for him in a mere few hours.

“Everything okay?” she slurred, sleepiness seeping into her tone. “Unless this is an emergency, I'm going to hit you tomorrow.”

Normally, he would've asked her to hit on him instead (or something similar). And yet, silence greeted her. Marinette laid back down, pulling the duvet over her cold body while waiting for him to reply. It took a few moments to make out that the sound she was hearing was his breathing—no cat noises, and no uttered words of the reason why he'd called so late at night. Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion, unsure of what to make of the call. The very idea that it was a strange dream was thrown out when she shivered from her exposed feet sticking out from the duvet. Curling into a ball for warmth, cradling the phone against her exposed ear, she waited.

“What floor do you have in your room?”

Maybe it was a dream. “A cheap carpet that's green. Certainly not as nice as your eyes.”

“Right, I—” Adrien cut himself off to clear his throat. “Sleep well, Marinette.”

And with that, she discarded her cell phone and went back to sleep without wondering about the odd question. She didn't recall the strange conversation for quite some time as the blond-haired male wasn't acting any different in her presence; when they were alone, he'd peck her lips before getting back to work, and when he stayed the night at hers the following week, she'd suddenly recalled it after she returned to the bedroom after brushing her teeth.

Adrien was perched upon her bed, the monotone pyjama pants that were littered with paw prints on without the overly large white t-shirt, showing his attractive body that she had become happily familiar with over time. The light dusting of golden hair below his navel shined in the soft light, and she grinned and made her way to stand in front of him.

He hadn't noticed that she'd entered, though. Instead, his emerald eyes were focused on the covered full-length mirror, expression unreadable, and she stilled centimetres away when she realised what he was staring at.

The material didn't cover the whole mirror. There was a section at the bottom visible, surely showing the flooring and nothing else in view.

That— _that_ meant—

Marinette gulped.

“Adrien?” she called softly.

He blinked. When he turned to face her, a large smile was upon his face and there was no sign of the neutral expression that had been there previously. “Hey there,” he greeted, opening his arms in a familiar gesture. “I thought you'd be gone forever.”

Rolling her eyes, Marinette sat upon his lap, legs placed on either side of his thighs, and butted their foreheads together in a reprimanding fashion. “I don't complain about your long showers.”

He bumped their noses together briefly. “You don't appreciate the warm water enough.”

“What were you deep in thought about?” Marinette questioned quietly, gnawing at her lower lip afterwards. If she had been concerned about admitting seeing him in her mirror, then he was surely just as freaked out after it had suddenly happened. Surely, it wasn't a coincidence that he'd called on one of the nights they were apart and the cloth happened to show the right amount of her room to match their conversation. It would've been a cruel twist of fate if he had only been plagued by the sudden compulsion to know about her carpet.

“Oh,” Adrien replied dumbly, not elaborating further for some moments. “Just this and that.”

If he would've divulge the information so soon, she planned to attempt to coax it from him. “Are wondering about my carpet again? I'd advise you from trying to get it for yourself. It's honestly quite ticklish at times, especially on bare skin.”

Despite the reminder of the strange question, Adrien laughed. “I've suddenly found myself very interested in it, that's all.”

“I'm sure,” she said dryly.

“Interior design is my passion,” Adrien deadpanned.

She snorted.

After a night of heated kisses, stolen pecks and glances during their working hours, Marinette returned to her apartment and headed straight to the mirror in her room. The cloth was promptly removed and shoved aside, and she wasn't shocked to see his bedroom within it any longer. It wasn't as though it would've suddenly fixed from being covered for a elongated period of time. Busying herself with stitching her newest designs for her boutique, Marinette peeked at the mirror every few minutes without being too obvious about it. If she were to stare blatantly and then have Adrien see her, she was sure that he would've had a dramatic reaction that surely wasn't needed; then again, when she'd first glimpsed him—while indecent at that—she'd cried out in a mix of shock and embarrassment, and that been one-sided.

The first glimpse of movement was Plagg and Tikki playing underneath the bed. They ran around for about half an hour before tiring, curling up together upon Adrien's pillow, leaving no room for him to sleep.

The corner of her lips curled into a sly smirk when she thought about how to shock him the most. Simply sat upon a chair at her desk, sewing a piece of bright-coloured fabric slowly, wasn't going to quite cut it. When she had first seen him, she thought she'd combust from witnessing the intimate scene. Even if she'd touched those parts of him herself by that point, she wasn't quite shameless enough to mirror the scene in her own way. So, trying not to cackle aloud a maniacal sound, Marinette tossed her soft shirt onto the bed and stayed clad snugly within her high-waisted denim shorts. The shirt had been a gag gift from Alya, once again, meaning it was covered in cartoon-styled cats in a slightly more sophisticated design that usual (a collar, for once). Her brassiere was pale lime-coloured with delicate lace around the cups, and she was glad that she'd thrown out the ratty ones before they'd become intimate.

With her cell phone placed on the desk beside her, attention focused solely on stitching and acting as though it was perfectly normal to be shirtless in her free time, Marinette resisted the urge to glance at the mirror—if she'd accidentally met his eyes and reacted, then there would've been no fun in teasing him. She'd almost completed her work when her cell phone began to rattle, the noise filling the empty space of the previously silent room, and she counted for a few moments before answering. The clothing she'd been altering was shoved onto the desk without a glance, and she purposely stretched and leaned back against her chair when she'd confirmed the caller and leaned back against the chair.

The mirror was in the same place as always; meaning, he could see her side and front, and she'd have a clear view of him, too, if she turned her head slightly.

She bit the inside of her cheek.

“Marinette?” His voice was breathy, full of surprise, and it almost made her choke down her laughter.

Stretching an arm over her head, Marinette replied, “Yes? I thought I was going to have peace and quiet tonight, for once.”

“I—” Adrien cleared his throat. “What are you doing?”

What was she doing, indeed? “I was just finishing some orders for my site,” she answered honestly, tone completely full of innocence. “Do you need me for something?”

“Do I need a reason for wanting to hear your voice?”

And there it was. His uncanny ability to smoothly flirt without stumbling over his words at the most unexpected times. Sometimes, when they were curled within a duvet with their clothes scattered across the floor, he managed to utter the most _ridiculous_ lines that caused her to groan rather than blush. Yet, when they were in an innocent setting or on the phone, he was more prone to succeeding in his original goal.

The smirk came back across her lips. Marinette made a drawn out humming noise, indicating that she was thinking of her answer, and twirled her chair around slowly to perch her legs upon the edge of the bed (one of the perks of having a tiny room, if one looked on the bright side of life). “I think you might be a tad clingy, Mister Agreste,” she murmured, reaching down to remove her socks one by one. “What ever shall I do with you?”

She heard him gulp.

It was becoming hard to resist peeking at the mirror, just to see whether he was blatantly staring at her. “Are you still there?” she found herself saying instead.

“I— _yes_ ,” he breathed out.

She undid the button of her shorts.

“You're very eloquent today,” Marinette remarked, smugness leaking into her tone. “Did you hit your head?”

Surely, his face had the usual pleasantly surprised expression that appeared whenever she started to undress in front of him. Even when he was the one to remove her clothing, the awed expression became known and it was so utterly _adorable_ that she couldn't help leaning forward to show her appreciation through a kiss each time.

“What are you doing?” Adrien asked breathlessly, repeating his previous question.

She tried not to laugh, really, but her frame shook from the contained chortles. Marinette grinned openly, knowing he could see her reaction, before standing up and working on the zip of her shorts. “Getting ready for bed now. You called pretty late tonight.” And with that, she shimmied out of her remaining piece of clothing and perched herself upon the edge of the bed, one leg over the other as she leaned back on one arm. “Is this my bed time call?”

He made a strangled noise that caused her laughter to finally be released. Falling back against the mattress, legs propped up, Marinette laughed madly, knowing that the uncovered mirror had surely given him a fright, but her actions probably had, too. The call continued, and although they didn't speak for a good few minutes, there were noises on the blond's end which meant that he was doing something.

“Adrien?” Marinette questioned after she'd calmed down. “What are you doing?”

His panted breaths were her only reply. The dark-haired female sat up quickly, head whipping around to stare at the mirror to see what he was up to, only to see the view was empty of who she was looking for. She padded across the floor, already knowing that it wouldn't change the angle of the view, peering side-to-side to attempt to catch a glimpse of him.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

He didn't verbally reply. There were countless noises, some that she could make out as a horn blaring briefly, before it was filled again with his heavy breathing. Marinette knitted her eyebrows together in confusion, staring into the full-length mirror despite the emptiness within the pane. Suddenly, there was a noise across the apartment that was muffled, but the sound came through the cell phone, too, which made her jumping in surprise.

When she'd made it to her front door, he demanded through panted breaths, “Let me in.”

He'd ran the whole way there, that was obvious. With cheeks flushed that were stained red, hair askew and sticking in every direction from running his hands through it, and crumpled clothing that was sticking to his skin from perspiration, Marinette simply _stared_ , astounded that this was his reaction to it—yes, she had teased him, but perhaps a small breakdown had been what she'd expected. He was still holding his cell phone to his ear, and her hand fell to her side, barely holding onto her device.

“Marinette,” he murmured, arms wrapping around her shoulders and pulling her against his warm chest. Whispering her name huskily like a prayer under his breath, she manoeuvred them instead and closed the door with a naked foot, a shiver running through her body from the cold air that had gained entrance to her apartment. Soft kisses her peppered across her neck, reaching her jawline by the time a coil of warmth had made its presence known in her abdomen.

She gulped.

“I'm so _sorry_ ,” Adrien said gently between kisses, lips trailing teasingly across her chin before he pulled back to look into her eyes with an expression that caught her off guard— _guilt_. He felt _guilty_ , and that thought had her dumbfounded expression clear to see. It wasn't as though he could've controlled it, and why would he _apologise_? She had been expecting a panicked expression, not for such rational thinking and then taking the blame for it. “I—I should've _listened—_ ”

Gripping the front of his shirt, Marinette interrupted with, “ _Stop_.”

They were still against each other's chests, sharing warmth that was wonderful and very much needed as she hadn't dressed during the downtime for their conversation, and he pulled back slightly so she could look up and meet his guilt-ridden expression easily. Marinette raised a hand slowly, giving him time to pull away if he wanted to, and cupped his cheek, fingers caressing the skin as she smiled softly.

“I don't want an apology,” she said softly. “Have you read any evidence, anywhere, that the legend's true? I haven't. I searched for years, actually, and I've never found anyone that could clarify the details and have them match up to mine.”

“How long?” he croaked, his soft fingers winding through the tresses of hair at the nape of her neck.

Her smile was bittersweet. “If it hasn't passed midnight already, then it's been five years, eleven months and seven days since I first saw you.”

“I—”

Shaking her head, Marinette cut him off with a look. She leaned forward, pecking his lips in a reassuring movement, before pulling back to flash a sincere smile. “Want to hear about my story first? It's not a very wild one, but I'm sure you'll laugh at a few things.”

And so, after a nod, Marinette had tugged him by the hand through her apartment and settled them both down upon her bed. Despite being clad in her undergarments, Adrien's eyes didn't stray from her face; his attention was solely on their conversation, and that had her heart pounding within her chest. She explained that she'd been a simple student, laughing cynically to herself within her room while thinking that soul-mates didn't exist, then she'd almost fallen out of her seat when the mirror had distorted to show his image. He had the decency to blush from having the first image of him being when he was masturbating, and he touched his neck self-consciously when she assured him that she looked away whenever he was busy with certain activities. Throughout the tale, the blond kept insisting he apologised by muttering them underneath his breath, and she interrupted them all with chaste kisses and a sharp look to let her continue her story.

He'd hugged her tightly, arms squeezing and holding her close, when she mentioned that she thought that he'd see her in the mirror after their first kiss.

“When did you first see me?” Marinette questioned, gesturing to her mirror across the room.

The fact that no one apart from him could see her room in his mirror reassured him, especially after Marinette mentioned how many had gazed and used her own successfully through the years.

Holding her hand, he squeezed and flashed a smile that showed his slight dimples. “Before I made that ridiculous phone call—interior design is certainly not an interest of mine, if you couldn't tell.” At her muffled snort, Adrien rolled his eyes. “I—I was just thinking about you.” A rose-coloured blush blossomed along his cheekbones, and she bit into her lower lip to keep from cooing at how adorable he was being. “I know we haven't been dating long, but I-I was just considering our future.”

She blinked.

“Either you're planning to break up with me in a really strange way,” Marinette started, raising her eyebrows, “or this is an awkward proposal that rivals your love confession.” The first option was definitely out; if he hadn't been thinking about soul-mates at all, then he wouldn't have seen her in the mirror.

He huffed, shooting her an unimpressed look. “I haven't exactly got the ring in my pocket.”

“...You're not kidding,” Marinette noted, surprise flickering across her expression.

There was no sign that he was joking. Adrien's lips curled into a wolfish grin, openly revelling from her utter shock at the off-handed comment. “As I was saying before some rude girl interrupted me—” Adrien paused abruptly as she whacked his arm, narrowing her eyes at him. “A rude, _violent_ girl, at that—I was thinking how you'd be the purr-fect wife, and then I could see your carpet.”

Her expression was torn between adoration and exasperation. Marinette let out a sigh, running a hand through her loose hair as he positively vibrated with muffled laughter from her reaction. “Is this your proposal now? _Really_? Cat pun and all?”

“Oh, Marinette,” Adrien said smugly, “I haven't asked the question yet.”

 _Yet_.

She wetted her lips.

“If you really propose with anything to do with cats, I _will_ hit you, I promise,” Marinette vowed.

He had the gall to look affronted.

And she added in before he could reply, “We haven't even had sex yet— _wait_. Are you religious or saving yourself for your wedding night? It would've been nice to know beforehand, if that's the case.” And although her words were joking, knowing that he had even been considering marriage was such an utter compliment and caused her stomach to churn in a mixture of discomfort and sheer giddiness. That was why he'd seen through her mirror, wasn't it? “You—”

Then, had she been dreaming about him? Marinette had been fast asleep when it had happened, so it was highly possible—it had to be reciprocated, after all.

Marinette cut off her internal monologue to gasp, a hand moving to cover her mouth as she stared at him with wide eyes. His expression turned bemused, unsure of her change of reaction, especially as he hadn't had the chance to answer yet.

“You were thinking about m- _me_! That's why I fucking saw you!” she shrieked, hitting him on the shoulder once again. “Y-you— _fuck_.”

Merely raising his eyebrows at her trail of thought, Adrien pointed out, “It wasn't a _platonic_ crush, Marinette. I was a healthy teenage boy.”

“Pervert,” she muttered, crossing her arms beneath her brassiere-clad breasts.

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, nice subject change there. No, Marinette, I'm not saving myself for marriage; I'm being a wonderful person and not jumping into things—or, well, your pants.”

“Why, I'm honoured,” the dark-haired female drawled, resisting the urge to roll her eyes right back. “So, me being terrible in bed is the breaking point of our relationship? It's possible that it's _you_ who possesses an underwhelming performance.”

“Let me get this straight,” Adrien started, grasping both of her hands tightly between his. “You're sat here scantily clad while saying you expect me to be a disappointing partner in bed? Of all the things you've said, Marinette, I think this hurts my ego the most.”

She wrinkled her nose, restraining the bubble of laughter that wanted to escape. “I've got to be honest with you.”

“This is all _after_ I said I wanted to marry you,” he continued, shooting her an unimpressed look. Attempting to tug her hands back only resulted in him restraining them further, warm skin covering her own and pulling her closer so their thighs were touching upon the mattress (his fabric-clad ones and her bare). “I'm not so sure any more—it turns out that _you_ were the stalker from watching me for five years.” A grin appeared across his face, spreading wide and meeting his eyes as it showed the white of his teeth.

Huffing, Marinette insisted, “You saw me _first_. It only worked because you were thinking about me!”

He shook his head. “That's technical details. I never spied on you changing in your room—that was never included in the photographs that Nino showed me.” They were small peeks that had built up over time (mostly when they were working together she would blatantly stare for more than a few seconds). Noticing her burning cheeks, Adrien leaned forward so their noses were lightly brushing against each other, the warmth of his breath hitting her lips. “You should be classed as the pervert because of that.”

“You can't just call me a stalker _and_ pervert without classing yourself as one, too,” she murmured, narrowing her eyes at him. “That's awfully hypocritical, isn't it? Imagine, my poor younger-self—just innocently featured in pictures with Alya, and then _you_ came along and decided to be a creep.”

The grin across his lips only grew at the attempted insults. “If we're talking about details, then it appears that I liked you first.”

“You liked how I looked!”

“Past tense?” Adrien queried, brushing his lips against hers softly before pulling back. “I still very much like what I see.” And with that said, he glanced at her lack of clothing with a wolfish grin, finally taking the time to blatantly stare at her.

Tugging her hands free from his grip from him being distracted, Marinette placed her palm underneath his chin and raised it, making it so he had to look into her narrowed eyes. “You're lucky I love you,” she announced, not resisting as his arms wrapped around her waist, “otherwise I would've kicked you out for such a weird comment.”

Adrien blinked. “Does it need a cat pun?”

“ _You_ —”

She was interrupted by him continuing to say, “I thought being told you're beautiful is the—”

Marinette's hand fell from his chin, instead sneaking around the back to grasp the tresses of golden hair by the nape of his neck. “Be quiet,” she murmured, leaning forward to connect their lips and cut off any attempt of continuing their silly conversation any longer. There was a muffled noise of amusement from him, but that was soon smothered as he responded to her actions heartily, returning the movements with enthusiasm. Their movements weren't as hopelessly clumsy as they had been at times at first, and she felt quite confident during, especially when a noise of approval and genuine pleasure escaped his throat occasionally.

So, with practised movements and noises of pleasure escaping them as she fell back against the mattress with the blond climbing gently on top in a familiar position, Marinette much expected the thundering pulse sounding within her head, along with the steady rhythm between her legs. Shifting her hips to search for friction, Adrien released a low moan as she brushed against him purposely. Their kiss was broken, and as they took in panted breaths that were irregular and matching their heartbeats, Marinette bit into her swollen lower lip as he began to remove his clothing. Slowly he removed his t-shirt, allowing it to fall to the floor, and caught her eye with a smug smile that made her roll her eyes quickly.

She pushed herself up from the mattress, hands caressing the smooth skin of his abdomen before trailing lower, teasing the flesh as she played with the buttons of his jeans, purposely taking her time. A shiver ran through her as he leaned down to place kisses across her neck, trailing down to her collarbone before biting at the skin teasingly. When she toyed with the zip, Adrien sucked upon her skin suddenly, surely causing a mark while coaxing a small moan of approval from his lips.

As her pale lime-coloured brassiere was discarded onto the floor, his clothing soon joined, too. Her underwear was tossed aside, much like his, and they fell back onto the various plush cushions upon her mattress. Marinette laughed as his nipped at her earlobe briefly, squirming from the ticklish sensation, and retaliating by scratching her nails along his side and smirking smugly from his abrupt chortles that were low and breathy.

He trailed kisses down from her earlobe, across the jawline before dipping down between her breasts, lips teasing the flesh around her without fully committing.

Winding her fingers into his hair, Marinette frowned pointedly when he looked up to flash a grin. With a chuckle, Adrien took the darkened flesh of her nipple into his mouth.

She wetted her lips.

The warmth that had been coiling with her abdomen spiralled, shooting lower while sending sensations of pleasure throughout her body. Her toes curled, an audible gasp escaping her lips, as Adrien bit the sensitive nub before soothing the flesh with light kisses.

After he paused with his teasing actions for a few moments filled with panted breaths, Marinette shoved at his shoulders, purposefully pushing him to the side onto his back, so she could climb upon his lap with a victorious grin. He made a noise which was a mixture of surprise and protest, but she hushed them with a fleeting kiss that soon turned into her biting the flesh near his jugular. She bit the skin teasingly, breathing in and noticing the tell-tale feeling of suction as she returned the earlier mark that he'd put on her. Adrien laughed at the action, squirming slightly from the feeling, and she grinned when she sat up.

His blond hair was mused, golden-tinted eyelashes creating shadows underneath his emerald eyes, and the flush upon his skin made him look absolutely _divine_ , and just knowing that she was the one that had caused such a disturbance in his appearance caused her heart to warm. Marinette grinned toothily, and he returned it, bemused. He _knew_ they were soulmates, and he didn't freak out hysterically or claim there was witchcraft involved—he had fucking apologised while hugging her tightly, and there was nothing more lovely than that.

Much like he had earlier, Marinette trailed teasing kisses down his torso at a slow pace. Shuffling down to place her weight upon his legs, her knees on either side of his body, she moved according to where her kisses were being peppered. She licked his navel to cause a squirm of protest, and laughed heartily at his disgruntled expression. Adrien narrowed his eyes at her, and she merely grinned and tried to appear as innocent as she could. After taking in his flushed cheeks once again, Marinette teased his skin with her blunt fingernails as she began her journey downwards. He raised his eyebrows, silently asking whether she wanted to commit as he always did when she moved to do such actions, and her answering smile met her bright eyes.

Well aware of her blushing face, thundering heartbeat and the needy pulse that was located between her warmed thighs, Marinette wrapped her hand softly around his member and squeezed appreciatively. Licking her lips briefly, she shuffled lower to tentatively lap at the flushed tip, revelling in the gasp that escaped his lip from the simple movement. Encouraged by his reaction, Marinette wrapped her lips around him, sucking lightly before creating slight friction by pulling back and releasing his member into the cool air. With her unsteady breaths fanning against his heated skin, the hushed moans escaping him from any actions she took, it felt like a position of power rather than being defenceless and at his mercy; rather, as she took his flesh in deeper and created suction, it was more likely that he would be at her beck and call if she wanted.

The noises of the room were his loud breaths, and the proof of her actions, and it all seemed to cause pleasure to spike through her body to right between her legs—her pulse demanded soothing, affection, and attention much like how he was receiving. Aware of the slight ache of her jaw, Marinette pulled her mouth back with an audible noise announcing that she'd retreated for the time being. Licking the tip once more, sneaking a peek to catch the blond's expression proved to be a choice that caused her breathing to stutter. With eyes scrunched shut, a flush across his cheekbones, and teeth snagged into his swollen lower lip, Adrien was as attractive as ever.

She gulped.

Wetting her lips again, she allowed him access into her mouth once more with confident movements; her tongue trailed teasingly against his skin, teeth brushing against once or twice and causing him to moan lowly. It was a process that produced the most delightful sounds from him, and when her jaw began to protest again, she was surprised by fingers winding into her hair softly and pulling her back. Placing a chaste kiss onto his member in a parting gesture, Marinette licked her lips when they made eye contact.

He was grinning widely.

Lowering herself onto his chest, she greedily accepted the heated kiss, tilting her neck and releasing a muffled groan as his tongue caressed hers. His nails marked his journey from her hair, down the dip of her back gently before reaching her backside and squeezing in appreciation. She laughed openly at that, but it was swallowed by their hushed breaths and intense kisses. He manoeuvred her onto the mattress beside him during the heated action, and when they broke apart with wet, swollen lips, she blinked in surprise before she flashed him an appreciative smile. The hand that had been caressing her backside grasped her flesh once more before trailing across her thigh, making teasing movements between her legs within touching the area that was craving attention. After seeing her narrowed eyes, the blond had laughed before pulling her head to lean against his neck.

“Can I talk yet?” asked Adrien, voice hushed and low.

Knowing her voice would be muffled by their position, she retorted, “ _No_.” She nipped the skin of his neck, grinning widely and making it known by him feeling the curve of her lips from the mixture of a breath of amusement and surprise that escaped him.

The fingertips that had been teasing, by making circles and patterns upon her heated skin without fully committing, soon trailed down and ran along her protrusion purposely slowly, and before long a single digit explored further, reaching within her with tentative movements and causing her to gasp into his neck, hands pawing at his naked chest for a sense of comfort. Her breaths grew louder with every passing moment, and with the half-hearted kisses and nibbles she applied to his skin, Marinette shifted her hips in hopes for better friction during. He was caressing her with loving movements—never too enthusiastic or fumbling—and she rolled her body to meet every curve of his fingers. Another had joined, and the slight stretching and the gentle build up meant her thundering pulse was crying loudly, whining for _more—_ and as he brushed against a certain bundle of nerves, her nails dug into his skin and she pressed her face further into his neck, panting into the warm skin and revelling in their close proximity.

Her toes curled.

With his thumb wandering, searching through her folds purposefully for her protrusion, Marinette gasped loudly, interrupting herself with a sudden moan, when he applied gentle pressure to her flesh. The sensations were building up, coiling within her abdomen and lower, and she was teetering upon the edge of blissful pleasure, _almost—_

“Marinette,” Adrien intoned softly.

She bit her lower lip.

With a shaking hand, she pushed at his shoulder to make her intentions clear. He understood the action, hand stilling from the pleasing movements, and he leaned back to reach her eyes.

Red-faced, golden-coloured hair in an utter mess, and an adorably perplexed expression made her all the more fond of him. Marinette grinned, flashing the brightest one she could muster despite her flaming face, along with the light sheen of perspirations from their actions, and leaned to kiss his lips quickly. He responded enthusiastically, withdrawing his hand and discreetly wiping upon the material of her sheet.

With a husky voice, she murmured, “ _Adrien_.”

And, miraculously, he understood what she was suggesting. He looked visibly confused for a moment before recognition dawned upon his face, and the suddenly surprised face he pulled was so utterly adorable that she hid her head within the flesh of his neck to attempt to muffle her laughter. He took no offence to her chortles, and after he grinned openly when she was visible again, he undid their tangled limbs and pawed at the floor in an attempt to reach his jeans.

She resisted the urge to push him over the edge, instead snagging her teeth into her lower lip.

Then came the tell-tale sound of foil crinkling, and her cheeks warmed and he cursed softly under his breath once or twice. Her cheeks were permanently reddened by that point, and knowing that his were, too, caused pride to swell within her chest. Knowing that she had been the cause of his mused hair, swollen lips, and the general reaction that his body was having made her feeling _powerful_.

There was no doubt reflected within her expression, nor his, and his dimples were fully on display from sheer happiness as she fell back onto the mattress, gulping audibly as they arranged their bodies so they could feel each other's flushed skin without awkward movement. His wrists would surely hurt at a later time, but as he clambered above her and stared directly into her eyes with a soft expression, she realised that there wouldn't be any regrets (other than his odd twinges of pain, perhaps).

A shift of their hips allowed for her to feel him pressed against her heated, aching flesh, and she wound her arms around his neck, fingertips brushing against his blond hair, in an encouraging gesture. She squeezed, surely gazing at him with such adoration that she used to restrain, and the answering grin caused her thundering pulse to demand _more_.

Her fingertips curled into his skin, making half-moon indents from the pressure, as he pushed gently against her entrance, the slick skin allowing access without further problems. Marinette gasped, holding onto him tightly as he edged in further, at a slow pace that was surely for her benefit, and when she squeezed her eyes shut as he was fully situated within her, she noticed the soft kisses that were being applied to her lips. She responded, noting that the twinge of pain had disappeared as the waiting time grew, and as time passed of him caring, waiting, and looking for a signal to continue, Marinette kissed him with such passion to silently convey how much his kindness meant to. With a shift of her hips, a gasp muffled into their interlocked lips, he understood.

Tentatively, Adrien withdrew before pushing slowly, hesitantly, and absolutely lovingly—as if to coax her to relax further, their lips broke apart as he began to place soft kisses along her jawline, shifting his hips gently and building up his movements while leaving room for there to be a chance to stop, if she wanted.

Marinette's grip on his shoulders tightened, a breathless moan escaping as his thrusts became more confident, and soon mumbled groans mixed with the syllables of his name were frequently leaving her swollen lips, as if she were chanting them under her breath. One of his hands held onto her hip, the warmth of his skin comforting. Attempting to raise her hips in time with his thrusts, Marinette inhaled sharply at the sudden jolt of pleasure, knowing fully that he'd understood her abrupt reaction.

There were nips applied to the area around her jugular, kisses scattered on her skin, and as pleasure coursed through her body along with the thundering pulse that simply couldn't be satisfied, the dark-haired female sucked in short, abrupt breaths at every chance.

The moans that were muffled by her neck were so ridiculously attractive that she found herself wanting to hear them more, and so she shifted her hips to meet his movements and revelled the the strangled gasps that escaped him.

She moaned his name, unashamed.

The roll of his hips were precise, the skin of his back was sure to be damaged from her nails, and the panted breaths between them were utterly blissful. With every movement, he would press against her protrusion and elicit sparks of pleasure that were welcomed warmly. And when he hit that bundle of nerves within her, she knew for sure he would smile smugly afterwards—but it was still _wonderful_.

As he blew upon the damp flesh of her neck, a shiver ran through her body.

The steady sound of their contact was arousing, and feeling his warm skin pressing against her as he delivered a particularly sharp thrust caused her to gasp aloud, a strangled moan escaping as his movements began to mirror the previous example. There were no more bites to her neck, as his attention was solely on bringing her pleasure—and that he did. With precise movements that had her spluttering unintelligible words underneath her breath, she became aware of the bubbling feelings within her.

They overflowed, and her grip tightened, legs buckling and muscles tensing from the pleasure coursing through her. Her body tightened around him, and perhaps that was what spurred him to continue, still. With her panting profusely, Adrien followed soon after, mutters of her name and words of love against her neck as he almost collapsed on top of her while shuddering. She held onto him, steadying his larger frame, and peppered kisses along his damp jawline with a wide smile.

When he'd regained his strength and lifted himself up at grin openly, Marinette narrowed her eyes.

“So,” he began, eyes bright and grin widening, “I think I'll be considering marriage after that—won't you?”

She rolled her eyes, hitting his warm shoulder lightly.

His smile remained, dimples clearly showing. “Unless that was as terrible as you predicted,” Adrien murmured, “aren't you going to con-cat-ulate me for my performance?”

Incredulous, Marinette spluttered, “Y-y— _you're_ still inside me, you ass!”

With a suddenly sheepish expression, Adrien amended their positions. She winced as he withdrew, feeling the sudden tell-tale prickling of building soreness, and heartily pushed him when he was sat beside her. He fell upon the mattress, looking thoroughly surprised before laughing heartily at her pout.

He raised his eyebrows. “...I promise not to propose with a pun?”

Despite wanting to groan from it sounding like a question, Marinette ran a hand through her mused hair and laughed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://xiueryn.tumblr.com/) ❤(ू•ᴗ•ू❁)


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